


Triquetra

by Unicorns_and_myblacksoul



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU-No One Dies, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Language, M/M, Marvel x Arthurian Mythology Crossover, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve says bad words, stucky fluff, there will be angst, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicorns_and_myblacksoul/pseuds/Unicorns_and_myblacksoul
Summary: A long time ago, a choice had been made that left a woman grieving for the loves she lost.  As a new enemy slinks out of the ocean depths, three people are brought together, by powers once thought lost to the Dark Ages, as scions to combat a very old enemy of the earth.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/OFC, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/OFC, Steve Rogers/OFC/James "Bucky" Barnes
Comments: 32
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! I have been wanting to write this fic for almost 5 years. I do have a lot of chapters written out but will be posting them as I get them edited, so please be patient. Thank you for reading and please review. :)

**610 AD - Isle of Avalon**

_The raft slid silently through the murky water of the lake, barely causing a ripple on its glassy surface. The woman’s hooded, gray eyes gazed down at the two men lying silent and peaceful on the small vessel. Tears poured down her red and raw cheeks as an unbidden sob wrenched from deep within her soul. Her gaze shifted up, staring at the cloudless heavens, stars twinkling brilliant from the beyond. Her eyes, filled with unshod tears and a poisonous rage, called forth a wind seemingly summoned by the Goddess Macha, herself._

_“You did this,” her scream, breaking the silence, was filled with betrayal and unending bitterness, “I never should have been so naive to believe any of you,” her knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the bodies of her beloveds. Gut-wrenching sobs seemed to suck the very life from the surrounding earth._

_As much as the young woman had tried to convince herself otherwise, her heavy head lifting to gaze at their faces, still in the peaceful repose of their death sleep, she knew they were lost. As much as she wanted to bring them back to stand by her side, safe and sound, interrupting their death sleep would bring back twisted creatures only able to feel hate and malice. Any love they felt before the death sleep took them, would be destroyed in the process. Instead, their spirits were lost to the ages of time. Bits of flotsam and jetsam scattered and it would take a millennium to rebuild the foundation of their souls._

_After some time, the raft slowly came to rest at the shore of their final destination, Avalon. Soft apple blossoms decorated the gnarled trees, their gentle scent permeating the land. This would be their final resting spot. A place which held the souls of great kings, undaunted heroes, indomitable queens, capricious faes, sad poets, exalted druids, and writers of love. In the Tomb of The Mórrígan, the only hallowed ground worthy for the men who had been heralded as the Once and Future King and the legendary knight who stayed steadfast at his side, in life and now in death. They had been brothers in arms since they were young boys scampering through the English yew forests fighting epic, imaginary battles with wooden swords._

_Slowly regaining her feet, the young woman, who seemed to have aged the closer the raft traveled to Avalon, stepped off the raft and into her homeland. With a flick of her wrist, she lifted the bodies of the men to hover in the air next to her; one on each side of her. As they had in life, they will in death. Her feet padded softly along the path, her footfalls barely disturbing the dust and dirt along the way. Tears, which had continued to rain down her face, were taken away with the roaring wind. Swirling around the trio, a physical manifestation of the grief, pain, and sorrow which had taken hold of her soul. It gripped the island like a hurricane, refusing any respite or peace for any of the inhabitants; if she would never have peace again, no one else should either._

_Nearing the steps leading down into the Tomb of the Mórrígan, she flicked her hand once more. Her palm faced the heavens with, what appeared to be, a tiny sun-centered within it, spinning languidly on its invisible axis. Her red-rimmed, gray eyes looked one last time up towards the heavens, her jaw clenched with unbridled wrath, Morgana Le Fay spoke, “Never again will you force me or any heir to choose between either man. Never.”_

_With that, Morgana strode down the steps toward the tomb, with Arthur Pendragon and Lancelot du Lac still floating beside her. As all three passed across the threshold, the tomb sealed behind them._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve worries the serum is failing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying my best to make the Marvel Characters as accurate as possible, but I may fall short.

**Brooklyn, New York**

Steve Rogers woke gasping, his sweaty palms twisted in the sheets of his king-size bed, flashes of the dream ping-ponging through his brain. Forcing himself to unclench his hands from the sheets, his fingers protested the movement after being held rigid for what felt like decades. Sweat crept down his brow, but he didn’t bother wiping it from his face. Staring up at his bedroom ceiling, he had quickly lost count of how many times the dream plagued his nights and had been at the forefront of his thoughts during the day.

At first, the dream had crept in like fog and smoke, reminding him of the dance halls he and Bucky used to go to, back in the day. Today, it felt like alarm bells crashing into a dysfunctional symphony. The pit in his stomach, which had started with the first dream, seemingly insignificant at the time, now felt like the mouth of a canyon; ready to swallow him whole with the amount of trepidation he felt.

Each dream always ended the same; centered around a pair of deep emerald eyes that almost glowed with hellfire and grief. Her eyes were like the A-bomb, ready to blast humanity into a nuclear winter with barely a wink from them. In the dream, he was awestruck by her eyes and the power they held within. She was a goddess ready to take her vengeance on all who had once wronged her. All at once, he was reverential and terrified by the thought he would have to battle her. He remembered Thor had once mentioned he had had a vision in a pool of some unseen enemy trying to gather all the Infinity Stones for some purpose. It wasn’t long after the vision, the universe was faced with Thanos and the hell he had caused. Was that the purpose behind those brilliant green eyes? Another apocalyptic war with consequences of unparalleled devastation.

  
Pulling himself out those bleak thoughts, Steve stared at his bedroom ceiling a moment longer before shaking his head, trying to scatter the lingering vestiges of the eerie dream. Swinging his muscular legs over the side of the bed, Steve stood, stretching his 6 foot, 2-inch frame. The deep maroon pajama pants he wore flirted salaciously with the ‘v’ of his hip bones that winked from the waistband. Grabbing the plain gray t-shirt he had shucked off before heading to bed, he pulled it over his head while walking into the kitchen of his Brooklyn apartment. Starting the coffee pot, he then strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day. The fog of the dream forgotten with the morning rush.

-

An hour later, Steve stepped out of his apartment and headed down the stairs. He barely made it down five steps before a searing pain ripped through his skull, grinding him to a halt. A wave of dizziness caught him off guard and almost sent him falling to the bottom landing. He had never been so thankful for a stair railing; the only thing helping him stay upright, he held it like a lifeline to a vessel. He hadn’t felt like this in more than a decade; when he had first regained consciousness after being in the Arctic for 70 years. Briefly, he considered reporting to Dr. Helen Cho to be examined when he got to the compound. However, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer she may give him. Turning, he braced his body against the wall as he gasped for breath; after all these years, was the serum starting to fail him?

Slowly, the pain and dizziness began to ebb away like receding floodwaters; he took deep breaths trying to regain some sort of control over his faculties. After a few minutes, he felt a bit better and glanced down at his watch, realizing how late he was for this morning’s briefing. Bounding down the stairs, he darted outside into the morning sun’s golden rays, catching briefly in his blonde hair. Starting towards the Harley Softail, he felt returning pangs of the intense pain once more. Hopping on, he turned over the engine of his bike, causing him to grimace further; it felt like the drum section of his high school marching band had taken up residence in his head. Letting out a deep sigh from the depths of his chest, he peeled out into Brooklyn’s morning rush hour traffic. It was going to be a long, damn day.

A half-hour later, he drove down the road leading to the Avenger’s compound. The pain in Steve’s head had finally subsided enough for him to feel semi-functional as he entered the parking lot, pulling into his usual spot. Flipping down the kickstand with the toe of his boot, he turned off the engine before dismounting from the bike. Grabbing his shield, he was stopped by a voice calling out to him. Turning towards it, he was greeted by Sam Wilson jogging towards him from the compound.

“Man, where have you been?! Tony was about to call on the National Guard to find America’s ass,” Sam joked, evoking a light chuckle from Steve at the nickname he had earned from Scott Lang during the search for the Infinity Stones. Sam continued, reaching Steve’s side, falling in step next to him as they headed toward the compound, “When did Captain America start sleeping in?”

“Come on, man, I’m over a hundred years old. I should be allowed to sleep in once in a while,” Steve pointed out, avoiding the real reason he had been late, pushing those thoughts to the deeper recesses of his brain.

“Well, that’s why Tony was worried. You are at a pretty advanced age, after all; maybe you got confused,” Sam grinned, walking into the building, followed closely by Steve.

Walking across the threshold of the Avenger’s compound, Steve was all business, the lingering pain in his head forgotten. Turning to Sam, he asked, “What is today looking like so far?”

“Apparently, there have been some major tremors off the coast of England,” Sam replied, “we do have a group of scientists heading over there to investigate it further. Should know more within the next few hours.”

“Okay, well, not much we can do to stop an earthquake, other than provide aid to the civilians near there,” Steve replied, continuing down the hallway.

Sam cleared his throat as they rounded a corner heading toward the briefing room, “According to Banner and Tony, the earthquakes don’t appear to be natural in origin.”

Steve’s brow furrowed at this comment, “I guess we will have to wait to receive more information from the scientists,” pausing briefly, a wave of dizziness catching him off guard, he quickly righted himself before continuing, “Have we heard anything more about that submarine lost about a month ago?”

Sam thought back briefly, “No. However, the last I had heard, search and rescue had suspended the dive and declared the team dead.”

Nearing the briefing room, Steve was about to respond when excruciating pain hit him once more, blinding him; he felt like his head was going to collapse. Dizziness quickly followed the pain, and he couldn’t stop himself from falling hard onto his knees. Pain coursed through his them as they hit the concrete, but compared to the pain coursing through his head, it barely registered. Shocked as he watched Steve crumple to the ground next to him, Sam didn’t even have time to stop Steve from falling. He immediately crouched beside his friend, his shouts for help rang through the compound. Grunting with effort, Sam lifted the dazed super soldier up, flinging Steve’s arm around his shoulder as Sam’s went around Steve’s waist.

Steve gasped, “I think…,” he paused, his breathing labored, “I think the serum is failing,” his head lolling between his shoulders as he passed out.

“TONY! It’s Cap! Get a doctor!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please review! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing submarine.

**A Month Ago**   
**256 miles off the west coast of England.**

For the last week, an oil slick underneath the oil rig had quickly grown larger each day. The drill crew had tried everything to find and seal any possible leaks from the equipment, which may have created the slick. Even after triple and quadruple checks, they still hadn’t found a single leak in the line. Yet, the slick continued to grow like a pandemic, spreading further and further from ground zero. The crew of the oil rig was now out of time and any other ideas. They had to send a crew down to investigate further.

The winch whirred slowly next to Bryson Mathers as the steel cable lowered the small, white submarine down towards the waves of the ocean. The other three individuals of the submarine crew waited at the dock. Trina Werner, the rig’s marine biologist, tapped on the iPad in her hand; she was the first one who had noticed the oil slick at the beginning of the week. She had immediately requested a sub crew to investigate the leak further but had been told to wait until other options could be sussed out. Charlie Downs, a geologist from Texas A&M, talked on the phone with another fellow geologist to determine the best way to tackle any possible leak they may find. Mitch Landers, the rig manager, stood next to his second-in-command, Scott Maxwell, having a brief conversation regarding the upcoming search.

Bryson watched as Scott left the dock, heading up the stairs to the control tower, ready to follow whatever instructions Mitch had given him. Below, Bryson heard the splash of the submarine finally touching down in the gentle ocean waves next to the dock. Turning off the winch, he turned around and headed down the stairs to join the rest of the team. As he reached the dock, Bryson heard Mitch call out, “Are we ready to head out,” snapping the rest of his gear to his vest.

“Ready, boss,” Bryson replied, hopping off the last step to cross the few feet between himself and Trina. The submarine floated next to the dock, gently nudged by the ocean waves lapping at its sides. Bryson glanced over at Trina, watching as she gently gathered her long blonde hair into a ponytail before fitting the comm device into her ear. Following her lead, he fixed the Chicago Cubs hat sitting on his head, sliding the comm device in his ear. Pressing the piece, he heard a brief buzz of static before the sounds of the oil rig’s control room replaced it.

Mitch pulled the lever on the outside of the submarine, the team watched the lid slowly flip open. Turning off his phone and sliding it into his jeans pocket, Charlie hopped in first, sitting up front, followed by Bryson and Trina, sitting in the back. Still, on the dock, Mitch unhitched the steel cable from the sub, glancing up to ensure it was recalled back to the winch. As the rest of the team strapped in, he hopped into the driver’s spot. Strapping in, Mitch pulled a lever on the instrument panel and the lid of the submarine began to close. The team watched the lid slowly encapsulate them inside; waiting for the familiar hiss of the pressure seal of the sub lid.

Trina glanced at the pressurization gauge as the loud hiss released around them, “Pressurization is green. We are good to go.”

Scott's voice came through their comms as he sat in the rig’s control room, “Everything looks good here. Good luck, down there. Hope we can figure out where the leak is coming from.”

Charlie grunted, “Same here.”

Mitch flipped on the lights for the sub, before pressing forward on the half steering wheel, guiding the sub beneath the ocean waves, “Sounds good, Scott,” Mitch spoke up, his voice gruff from years of Camel Straights, “We will touch base again in fifteen minutes.”

The sub’s residents were quiet as the vehicle descended deeper through the ocean depths. Instruments and panels gave out various chirps the further down they traveled through the waters. Gazing at the depth gauge, Trina quietly called out, “100 meters.”

Charlie spoke up, looking down at his own iPad, “The first well is at six hundred fifty-five meters down; we will check that one first. After that, the next one is at two thousand four meters.”

Bryson tapped on the keyboard nearest him before glancing out the tiny porthole beside him, watching as a plume of the slick appeared to wave hello in the ocean waters. As he watched, a small school of haddock swam through the plume before turning on their proverbial heel and heading right back through the way they had originally come. Confused, Bryson cleared his throat, “Um, Trina, don’t fish usually die from oil spills in the ocean?”

Not even bothering to glance up from her iPad, she replied, “Yes, of course,” briefly rolling her pale blue eyes at the seemingly idiotic question.

“So, how come these fish seem to be unaffected?”

That got her attention as her head whipped up. “What?”

“Yeah, the fish are swimming through it,” Bryson said, pointing towards his porthole where the fish continued to swim within the plume of the oil slick.

The rest of the crew immediately glanced through the portholes closest to them. Their faces plastered with looks stunned by the fishes’ behavior. Mitch pressed some buttons on the panel before thumbing the comm device in his ear, “Hey Scott, I’m sending you a live feed of what we are seeing. The fish seem to be unaffected by the oil.”

“That’s strange,” Scott responded, his voice puzzled.

“Approaching six hundred feet,” Charlie called out, only then realizing how close they were to the first target, the fish momentarily forgotten. The team immediately pushed on towards the first oil well indicated on the screen in the center console. Just as the submersible skiff had shown earlier this week, the team confirmed there was not a single leak. Mitch sighed, not that he really wanted to find a leak, but he had really hoped it would have been at the first oil well.

When they had begun construction on the second well several years ago, it had been a disaster from the get-go. Numerous equipment malfunctions, crew injuries, unstable terrain, and various other problems had plagued the crew. Since then, the site had made the hair on the back of Mitch’s neck stand on end. He hated going to the second well for anything; even for simple maintenance procedures. Pushing the sub to go deeper into the ocean depths, his stomach clenched as he gritted his teeth.

A half-hour ticked by, the only sound was Charlie’s voice calling out the depth they had reached every few minutes; the tension within the sub became tauter with each passing meter. The further they delved, the thicker the oil slick seemed to become. Even with how thick the sludge had become, marine life within it appeared completely unharmed, which no one could explain.

As they approached nineteen hundred meters, the water had become completely black like thick smoke from a toxic fire. The water consistency appeared to have mutated, as well, turning into a syrup-like goop. The headlights on the sub could no longer pierce the ooze surrounding it, appearing to reflect back at the occupants.

“Scott, are you still receiving the feed,” Trina called out through the comm.

“Yep, still here,” his voice came through, static had become a constant buzz like cicadas in summer through the comm pieces.

“Okay, the water down here has turned into some sort of muck or sludge, I’m not really sure which,” Trina paused, gathering herself, “It doesn’t even resemble water reflecting a recent oil --”

Bryson's yell pierced through the comm piece, interrupting Trina, “What the actual fuck is that?!”

Through his headphones, Scott heard Trina scream out and immediately looked over at the live video feed. A huge burst of the slick spewed forth from an unknown source, completely swallowing the camera and the sub in its black, inky jaws. His headphones screeched in his ears before turning quiet, “Mitch…Mitch, are you there?”

Dead air continued to fill Scott’s headphones, “Charlie? Charlie, come in…”

Again, Scott received no response. Reaching for the panel, he tried flipping the headphones off and then back on. Dead air greeted his ears; he tried to swallow down the pit that had suddenly appeared in his stomach, “Trina, are you there? Bryson? Come on, guys! This ain’t fucking funny!” Only dead air continued to greet him.

Scott continued to try to raise the sub another few minutes before ordering the submersible skiff to be released. It was then the control room realized the oil slick had completely vanished as it had never even existed. When the skiff reached the depth the team had been at when they had gone dark, there was nothing. No wreckage, no bodies floating with lifeless eyes, and no sign of any thick sludge.

They were just...gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not have any knowledge of oil spills, how oil rigs work, how submarines work, submersible skiffs, etc etc etc. Basically, I took what I found online and just went with it. Also, I tried to figure out if 256 miles from England's west coast was still in the ocean or Ireland. Alas, I failed so if it is in Ireland, know that I tried.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please review :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young woman collapses in a chapel.

**Present Day.**   
**Roslin, Scotland**

Sunlight gazed gently through the ornate, stained-glass windows, taking in the incredibly elaborate stone carvings seeming to sprout out of every nook and cranny of the unique structure. Murmurs of parishioners, clergy, and tourists filled the chapel with a soft, almost melodic music that wafted hither and yon, enveloping the young woman sitting on one of the dark, wooden pews. Her sketchpad lay open and propped on her lap, her hand grazing over the paper as she captured one of the distinctive arches, with its small boxes protruding from it. Pausing to take a deep breath, she luxuriated in the rich smell of wood oil, old parchment, with dashes of cinnamon, and sweet roses, permeating to the very bones of the medieval structure.

Rhiannon Stewart had been visiting the chapel almost daily since arriving six months ago in Scotland, after accepting a position as exhibition coordinator for the National Museum in Edinburgh. She had been so excited when she had been offered the position at the prestigious museum. She had been enthralled with the British Isles since she was a young teenager, hoping to live in Ireland or Scotland someday. However, when she learned her most favorite piece of architecture in the world was only a short bus ride into the Scottish countryside, she had been ready to leave the same day. The Rosslyn Chapel had fascinated the dark-haired woman for years with its symbolic sculptures and the history behind the Chapel. The stories involving the Priory De Sion and it’s connection to the Rosslyn Chapel only added to her curiosity of the enigmatic structure.

Continuing her most current sketch, she had been resolute in coming out to the church today; even though she had been so under the weather for the last week. Suffering from almost constant headaches, which seemed to sweep in and out at a whim, dizziness that left her feeling like she at recently participated in a tea party with the Mad Hatter, and strange dreams of two men with blue eyes swirling like a tornado in her brain. Her pencil continued to scratch across the paper; leaving graphite rivers across the paper as she continued to reflect on the dreams. Her mercurial eyes, usually flashing different shades of green, sat dull and tired. Dark rings around her eyes were a testament to the dreams' kleptomaniac need to keep her on edge.

Her thoughts were so distracted, she hadn’t even realized she was no longer drawing the arch, but the eyes which had been haunting her dreams. Those eyes, so full of determination, stoicism, and the fortitude to preserve, no matter how the personal cost. Then the dream would change and those eyes would suddenly be filled with a pain that took her breath away, a sadness that refused to be swept aside. Her dream change for the last time, focusing on eyes which had turned cold, vacant, and lifeless. It was always those eyes, pulling her from sleep with a yell, her body bolting her upright in her bed, that left her shaken to the depths of her soul.

As a teenager, Rhiannon had begun having prophetic-like dreams; either pointing to some event in the near future or something she had never experienced in her lifetime, but felt excruciatingly real. After the first dream, the eyes still sitting in her brain like ghosts, Rhiannon knew she had seen those dead eyes before, in another time and place, well beyond the current world. They were a part of her, though, and she knew she would give every part of her soul to never see those eyes laying wide, lifeless, and vacant again.

Rhiannon’s pencil slid carelessly across her sketchpad before suddenly falling from her hands, clattering on the stone floor of the chapel. Searing pain raced like a wild herd of startled mustangs through her overly tortured brain, her eyes clenching shut to block out the throbbing. Her hands reached for her head, fearing it would finally split into a million different pieces. A gasp wrenched through her lips before she clenched her jaw together, teeth-gritting, as several people suddenly turned toward her, questioning looks in their gaze. While the headaches had increased over the week in intensity and frequency, this might be the one that finally did her in, she thought, as another spasm took hold of her.

Her eyes opening into bleary slits, Rhiannon fumbled for her bag sitting next to her on the bench. She dug through it, trying to find the bottle of Tylenol she had stuffed in there, after stopping at the local pharmacy, before she had hopped on the bus. Tears of frustration sprung to her eyes when Rhiannon couldn’t find the bottle in her bag. Growling with frustration, she upended her bag, dumping the contents onto the floor of the beautiful chapel. Lipsticks, a cell phone, her wallet, and a handful of change scattered everywhere, loudly hitting the stone floor.

Caring little that she now had an audience, Rhiannon’s eyes located the pill bottle a few feet away from her, laying so innocently next to the leg of the pew on the floor. Scrambling, she grabbed it and popped it open, spilling out several pills into her hand and onto the floor. Grappling with her water bottle, Rhiannon downed the few pills she had captured in her hand before chasing them with large slugs of water. Sitting on the floor of the chapel, she settled her back against the seat of the pew; taking large gulps of air as she tried to catch her breath.

Before she could try to gather her things, a member of the clergy crouched next to Rhiannon, his voice filled with worry as he took in the young woman, “Lass, are you alright? Could I be of any assistance?”

Trying to look at him through unfocused eyes, one hand trying to keep her head together while the other was wrapped around the water bottle, Rhiannon could only imagine the disaster she must look like right now. She tried desperately to scramble to her feet, but couldn’t seem to make them work, instead, they just scraped uselessly on the stone floor. Giving up, she tried to look up at the man, her breathing labored, she could only gasp, “Outside...please…,” her voice trailing off.

Semi-conscious, she saw a couple of different sets of shoes coming to stand next to her before she felt strong hands wrap around her upper arms, pulling them gently across two different sets of shoulders. The two warm bodies had her sandwiched between them, attempting to carry her outside; her feet haphazardly dragging behind her, only drawing more unwanted attention as they stumbled on the stone floor. She tried to apologize, but her mouth couldn’t seem to understand how to make the necessary shapes. Rhiannon heard a set of heavy, wooden doors open and close, the brilliant sun’s rays zeroing in on her. The light felt like it was searing her brain from the inside out.

Her shriek echoed across the Scottish hillside, startling the people holding her, dropping her unceremoniously, onto the soft, cool grass with a light thud. Rhiannon grunted at the impact, breathing in the rich, musky smell of the earth mingling with the sweet smell of fresh grass. The cool, Scottish wind caressed her tear-stained face, curling its gentle fingers through her long, dark tresses like her mother used to do when she was a little girl, soothing her. The air seemed to sweep the pain away from her aching head, relieving her of the feeling of imminent implosion. She blinked several times as she lay there, her vision clearing slowly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to sit up, her limbs as shaky as a newborn calf, learning what its little legs were made for.

Glancing up, Rhiannon took in all the strangers surrounding her, a quiet hush of murmurs seemed to sweep around the crowd. A blush bloomed brightly on her cheeks and across her chest. Looking quickly down, she tried to avoid their stares as she attempted, once more, to stand up. Falling back once more, a wave of dizziness swept over her. Running a shaky, frustrated hand through her long tresses, she pursed her full lips, annoyed with how weak she felt.

“Tch, tch. Lass, ye best jest stay down fer now,” an older man, crouching next to Rhiannon, admonished, his voice thick with a Scottish brogue, “Got EMS on its way to help ye. Steady now, ‘kay,” he nodded over at her.

Rhiannon nodded her head slightly as the man took another breath, “What’s yer name, lass?”

Swallowing, she drew a tremulous breath in, “Rhiannon Stewart.”

“Gor, an American lass even,” the old man exclaimed, a deep grin splitting the wrinkles of his face, “What brings ya across The Pond,” his voice gentle, trying to keep her talking and calm. Rhiannon was grateful to the old man, knowing he was trying to keep her focused on something else.

She tried to smile back, still dealing with dizziness, “Uh...work,” she paused, trying to gather her thoughts as the two pairs of brilliant blue eyes flashed in her vision again, “In, um, Edinburgh, at the National Museum of Scotland.”

“I hate to pry, lass,” his face full of concern and sympathy, “but is this a common thing for ya, lass?”

“Um,” Rhiannon paused again, “No, no. It only began happening a week ago.”

The older man nodded, turning to a sound on his left, he began to rise from his crouched position next to Rhiannon, “Sounds like the EMS is close. I’ll go flag ‘em over, lass. Wait right here,” he motioned to her before walking off.

The surrounding crowd had dispersed a little, returning to their previous activities before Rhiannon had decided to provide them with a showstopper performance. What the fuck was even happening to her? Sure, her health had been spotty over the years, which is why she had chosen to not work out in the field. This was getting absurd though with dizzy spells, nausea, and searing headaches. Rhiannon was holding hope that whatever she had, wasn’t serious. Glancing back up, she saw some people were still lingering and pointing; she tried to ignore them, but it was hard. She was normally very shy and hated being the center of people’s attention. She was much happier fading into the shadows than to be in the limelight.

Rhiannon was just starting to feel a bit better when she was hit with a trifecta of nausea, dizziness, and pain. She could feel bile rising from her stomach, her mouth filling with saliva. She tried to swallow it back, but couldn’t, throwing up on the ground next to her. God, could it get any more embarrassing, she thought grimly, trying to wipe the sweat on her face with the back of her hand. She could see the old man directing the EMS to her; she tried to wave and smile, but Rhiannon simply collapsed back onto the soft, Scottish grass with only the darkness as a blanket to comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosslyn Chapel is located in Roslin, Scotland. It is, in my opinion, one of the most unique and interesting Christian churches in the world. It was played a major role in Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code. https://www.rosslynchapel.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earthquakes and disappearances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, tags are updated. There is a hint of Steve/Bucky fluff in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please review/kudos! :) It is all very much appreciated!!

**Avengers Compound  
** **New York**

Steve lay unconscious in a bed within the medical bay of the Avenger’s compound. Monitors beeped steadily as they kept record of his vitals. When the team had heard Sam shout out for help, the team all came running, with Bucky Barnes the first on the scene. His face gave nothing away as Bucky had hefted Steve’s body over his shoulder, making beeline for med bay. Laying Steve on the stretcher, he was immediately moved out of the room, forced to look on as Dr. Helen Cho, Tony Stark, and Bruce Banner worked on Steve. Placing different wires on him, drawing blood, and scanning his eyes as they tried to find a reason for his collapse. Standing in front of a window of the medical bay, Bucky stared at the still form of his best friend; his eyes barely blinking as he willed his friend to wake up.

“Any change,” Natasha Romanoff asked, planting herself next to Bucky. He simply shook his head in response, not trusting his voice to respond right now, continuing to stare on.

Sam Wilson came to stand on Bucky’s other side, “Steve said,” he paused, clearing his throat, “he said before he passed out,” again, another pause, “he thought the serum was failing. Do we think that could actually happen?”

As if he, too, was blessed with super soldier hearing, Tony burst through the med bay doors, “Cap appears to be the picture perfect example of health, even for being over a hundred years old,” glancing down at the StarkTech pad in his hands, Tony released a deep sigh, “However, we aren’t sure if the serum is failing. We’ve run scans, tests, and more scans; we still aren’t any closer to figuring out what’s going on with him,” Bucky, watched Tony, who seemed a bit more on edge than usual. Steve’s role with the Avengers had been integral to their cohesion as a team; the thought of losing him had put everyone on edge. Rubbing his forehead, Tony sighed, “We just...we can’t figure out why he won’t wake up.”

Leaning against the wall across from the window, Nat asked, “So, what’s next?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke, “Nothing,” his frustration palatable, “Nothing we can do. It’s all up to Cap now All we can do is wait.”

“I think I might have found something,” Bruce exclaimed from the bay. He grabbed another StarkTech pad, sending the data he found to the main screen in the briefing room. The team quickly hustled into the room, anxious for any news about the First Avenger’s condition. On the large screen, there were two different DNA helixes spinning on the screen. Looking at the screen, Bucky could see one appeared to be normal; the other one was constantly changing and morphing, unable to determine its shape.

Bruce walked in behind the rest of the team, “So, I started looking into his DNA profile, then compared it to his DNA now,” pointing to the one on the left, “This is his DNA, taken just a few weeks ago,” turning to point to the helix on the right, constant and unchanging, “And this was taken when he came into the med bay”, motioning to the shapshifting helix, “For some reason, Steve’s DNA is changing again,” Bruce paused, “But there is no indication of any external factors, which may have caused this. So, while we know what is happening,” he sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, “we don’t know why it is or what will happen to him once his DNA has stopped changing.”

The conversation continued, but Bucky had zoned out; he wanted to know what was going on with Steve. Standing up, he strode from the briefing room, heading back to the med bay to sit with Steve; he wanted his best friend back. Upon entering the med bay, he walked over and to one of the desks, grabbing a stool, he sat next to Steve’s prone figure. Bucky reached over and grabbed Steve’s hand, holding it tightly, he refused to let it go. Memories of when they were younger swept through his head as he stared at Steve’s prone figure; days and nights of Bucky sitting at Steve’s bedside in watchful vigil. Helping him fight off one sickness to the next; Bucky had thought those days were settled decades ago.

Not concerned about the consequences, Bucky pulled Steve’s hand up to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on the captain’s skin. Returning the hand to his lap, Bucky’s shoulders slumped with weariness for the first time in a long time, his chest expelled a deep sigh. Come on, Steve, Bucky groaned, his eyelids shuttering the worry they held. The steady beep of Steve’s heartbeat on the monitor began to lull him into an uneasy sleep. His dreams flittered to one of the last time, many decades ago, Bucky had nursed Steve back to health.

Steve had come down with a terrible case of bronchitis during the winter, shortly after Pearl Harbor was bombed, and Bucky had spent it spooning warm broth into him and snuggling deep within the blankets next to him, as he tried to keep Steve warm in their cold apartment. He never stopped worrying about him during those hard years. Even after Steve had been changed by the serum, Bucky still worried about him, as Steve risked his life for those around him, including Bucky.

A loud rumble jolted Bucky awake from reliving those memories. It felt like the earth was being ripped apart right underneath his feet. Turning his head to make sure Steve was still safe, Bucky was shocked by the soft golden light emanating from within him. Bursting through the med bay doors as the rumbling started, Nat was stopped in her tracks, as well, by the glow surrounding Steve’s body. Both watched in horrified awe as his body began to hover above the bed. The further Steve’s body rose into the air, the more destructive the rumbling became; cracks appeared along the walls and ceilings of the compound. Bucky could hear feet pounding through the halls as the team raced towards the medical bay.

Jumping to his feet, the stool Bucky had sat on went tumbling to the ground behind him. Bucky tried to figure out where the threat was coming from, he pulled the pair of Glock 17s from on the holsters at his sides, ready to combat whatever it was. Natasha rushed to Bucky’s side, pulling out her own pair of Glock 19s, ready to defend Captain Rogers. Their heads spinning around the room, looking for the threat. The louder the rumbling grew, the brighter Steve’s body seemed, almost blinding the pair. As quickly rumbling began, it ended, leaving Nat and Bucky confused as they stood next to Steve’s prone figure.

With a resounding crack, echoing throughout the compound, Steve’s unconscious figured disappeared, leaving no trace of his existence behind. Nat and Bucky could only stand there, shocked with mouths agape at what they had witnessed. Their mind trying to comprehend what had happened to their best friend and captain.

**Rosslyn Chapel  
** **Roslin, Scotland**

Across the Atlantic Ocean, the old man watched the young woman, strapped to the EMS gurney, be rolled towards the ambulance. The poor lass had collapsed, even as he tried to keep her conscious while they waited for the EMS to arrive. He was directing emergency workers to her when young woman had fallen unconscious, right before his eyes. She was still breathing and the EMS team had determined all of her vitals appeared normal, yet she refused to be awoken. Unable to figure out what was wrong with her, and no one else to help the lass, the EMS decided to take her to Liberton Hospital in Edinburgh.

As the EMS team neared the ambulance with the young woman, the ground beneath them began to rumble. People, who had been milling around the chapel, began shouting in fear, running for safety. “What the fuck,” one of the EMS exclaimed, watching the young woman’s body begin to glow from within.

Taking an unconscious step back, the group surrounding her figure could only stare, open-mouthed. The glow from the young woman’s body amping up, as the rumbling became stronger and more intense around them. The straps holding the young woman’s body to the stretcher began to extended and tear as some unknown source started raising her body from the gurney. Further and further the ties stretched, finally giving way under the pressure, and snapped in two. As the binds broke, the young woman’s body rose further above the bed; her rich, brown hair fluttering in the soft breeze like banners on a castle.

The rumblings surrounding the Rosslyn Chapel stopped as suddenly as they started. However, the young woman continued to float for a brief moment more. Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the hillside and her body vanished before the eyes of the few people surrounding her. All gasped in alarm, shocked by what they had witnessed. The young woman was gone, like a ghost sent to roam the hallowed and mythical grounds of Rosslyn Chapel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be a few days before the story is updated. I am due for an infusion in about a week and I'm starting to run on fumes. I'm going to keep writing, but I don't know how much I will be editing. I will try, though. Thanks for understanding! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhiannon and Steve meet.

**Tintagel Castle**   
**Cornwall Coast, England**

Steve groaned loudly, his eyes clenching against the bright light trying to invade the darkness surrounding him. He felt a little like he had after the battle in Wakanda, when they had tried to stop Thanos. His long lashes fluttered against his face, sea air swirling in eddies around him, his brow furrowing in confusion. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs surrounding his mind, his eyes finally learned their function again and opened. Sitting up, his head swiveled around, trying to take in his surroundings.

Getting to his feet, Steve walked a few feet towards the cliffs, seeming to surround him on all sides, with the expansive sea staring back. A bronze statue of, a what appeared to be, a knight stood vigil, overlooking his land. Craggy rocks jutted out of the ocean before slowly fading away underneath the waves of the sea. Spinning around, he noticed a long bridge spanning the length between the headland he stood on and the mainland. Once I get to the mainland, I need to figure out where I am, Steve thought, starting in the direction of the bridge. It would be better if he could borrow a cell phone, at least call the team for a pick up.

A quiet gasp behind him stopped him in his tracks, once again turning towards the ever vigilant knight. Laying on the ground before him was a beautiful young woman with long, brown hair splayed out around her, it’s ends twisting gently in the sea breeze, like tiny, spring flowers. Steve knew the woman hadn’t been there a second ago, so he was perplexed by her sudden appearance. How had she even arrived here without him not seeing her before. She was gasping and unconscious, like she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Steve quickly strode the few feet over to her, kneeling down next to her, as he tried to help her.

Eyes of brilliant green, seared into his brain, after a week’s worth of nightmares, opened beneath his kneeled frame. Taken slightly aback, Steve pressed on, determined to help the young woman, “Hey, there,” trying to keep his voice calm, even as her eyes reflected bewilderment and slight alarm, setting him on edge, “Can you take a slow, deep breath for me,” Steve asked, taking a deep breath himself, in an attempt to help her. It might also have been to calm his own racing heart as he stared at her.

Rhiannon looked up at the man kneeling before her, the same man she had seen plastered across front page newspapers, tabloids, and breaking news reports for the last several years. His eyes, though, were the same eyes, which had been part of the pair clouding her mind for the last week. It only made her wonder who the other set of eyes belonged to. Seeing those eyes up close, she could easily drown in their crystal clear depths and never regret the choice. She realized that he was still telling her to breathe, and she could hear herself, gasping for air. She wasn’t sure if it from waking up in some unknown place or being close enough to see flecks of green in his eyes. Reining in her wayward thoughts, she took his advice, filling her lungs several times with the ocean air flowing around them.

“What’s your name, miss,” Steve asked her, helping the young woman to a sitting position next to him.

“Rhiannon Stewart,” she replied, upon looking around, she realized she wasn’t remotely near Rosslyn Chapel. Had she not been so confused by the sudden change of scenery, she probably wouldn’t have even been able to form a coherent response to the incredibly handsome causing havoc to her heart.

“I’m Steve Rogers,” responding in turn, a small smile gracing his full lips, attempting to put the beautiful young woman at ease. He was enthralled with her green eyes, so expressive and vivid against her pale complexion.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve seen your pictures around,” Rhiannon replied, her own smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, “It’s nice to meet you,” starting to get up. Steve moved out of her way, offering his hand to help her up. As she took his hand, Rhiannon could feel the texture of his skin; rough from combat and training.

Once they were both standing, Steve asked, “So, do you have any idea where we might be,” as both individuals took in the landscape.  
Turning around, Rhiannon’s gaze landed on the vigilant, bronze knight, “Yeah,” her voice, perplexed, ”I know exactly where we are, but…,” her voice trailing off, turning to face him.

Steve could see hesitation displayed on her face, “Where are we at,” his deep voice calling after Rhiannon as she slowly walked toward the knight. He trailed behind her, watching as her hand trembled slightly, reaching to touch the knight. It was as if she was expecting the bronzed metal to come to life.

Touching the statue, Rhiannon let out a sigh, “Uh, yeah,” clearing her throat, her head turning to Steve as he came to stand next to her, “We’re at the ruins of Tintagel Castle. In England.”

Steve’s brow jumped at her announcement. How the hell had he gotten to England, his thoughts racing, “Are you --?”

“Positive,” she finished for him, catching his gaze, their faces mirror images of disorientation, “Yeah, without a doubt. I specialize in English history and mythology. Take it you weren’t planning on a visit to the English countryside?”

Steve let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head, “Ha, no. No, I really wasn’t,” His hands moving to his hips, his gaze sweeping the landscape again. This whole situation had him on edge as he tried to find any possible threat. “The last thing I remember was arriving at the Avengers compound in New York.”

Rhiannon’s bright green eyes widened with this information, “Well, that makes two of us then. I was in Edinburgh just a few minutes ago,” releasing deep sigh, trying to alleviate the pent-up tension that felt like she had been breathing in lead bricks.

A loud crack issued behind the duo, “We brought you here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tintagel Castle - According to Arthurian legends, Tintagel was the birthplace of King Arthur. There is castle ruins on the headland of Tintagel.  
> King Arthur Statue - The art piece was installed on Tintagel headland and is known as Gallos.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is so short. Hopefully, I will have a new chapter edited tomorrow. Thank you for reading! Please review/leave kudos! It is definitely appreciated! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interruption and a new individual appears.

Spinning around, Steve and Rhiannon were greeted with three individuals who appeared to have gotten lost on their way to the local Renaissance fair. The group stood staring at Steve and Rhiannon as if the trio were able to see into their most inner demons. One of the two men stood in the center of the group; he looked like a youthful boy and an old man all at once. He had a warm smile, showing dazzling white teeth, contrasting with his dusky skin. His eyes, however, gleamed with knowledge encompassing several millennia and the unimaginable power he brandished with little effort.

Reaching a hand up, he slid off the hood of his white, roughen wool robe from his head. His dark hair, streaked throughout with quicksilver gray and bits of vivid blue, was pulled away from his face and woven into various lengths of dreadlocks. The most striking thing was the blue paint scrawled around his face, leading down his throat, in tangled designs. Shifting his weight, the man leaned on a great, twisted staff of yew wood, almost shining like metal in the sun’s glare.

Flanking his right side, stood an exquisite woman with eyes that glittered like polished onyx and deep, ebony skin. Her jet hair was sculpted into intricate braids around her head before landing at her thighs. Her head was adorned with a crown made of firefly heather, soft pink apple blossoms, and yew leaves. It reminded Rhiannon of the hairstyles worn by Viking men and women; she had always been drawn to the pagan-like hairstyle. The woman was swathed in a bewitching royal blue gown, which settled gently around her bare feet. Her sleeveless arms were embellished with bands made of intricate leather, fired silver, and hammered copper.

On the robed man’s left stood a shorter man with ruddy, weather-worn skin. His shaggy, dark blonde hair fell around the collar of his tunic, and he had a thick, full beard around his face. His clothing was simple, like that of a peasant; all of it appeared to be handmade. The white tunic he wore appeared to have seen better days, with a simple piece of brown rope as a belt; his brown trousers were covered in several patches. He had clever, blue eyes, twinkling with merriment and a smile played on his mouth.

Steve stared at the trio, the power radiating off of them made him immediately straighten up, preparing for whatever battle may lay ahead. Rhiannon glanced over at Steve, noticing how he suddenly straightened and his face became a rigid mask of resolve. The easy, soft smiles of Steve Rogers were gone; in their place was Captain America, hardened by the battles with Thanos, the loss of friends, and missions so numerous, he had lost count years ago. Glancing back at the trio, Rhiannon wasn’t sure they would be able to defend themselves against the formidable group; even as an unambiguous civilian, she could feel the power resonating through their veins.

“And who are you,” Steve asked, his voice undaunted, demanding answers, “And why did you bring us here?”

Before the trio could respond to the questions, an ear-piercing voice howled around the entire group, “STOP.”

The pressure around the five individuals seemed to soar and the sea had turned to war, violently crashing wave after wave onto land. The surrounding air became arctic, expelling droplets of ocean water, that swept in like nettles had taken roost under their skin. Rhiannon’s hair whipped in the wind as she tried to shield herself against the power encircling them.

Across from him, the trio tensed, shifting to do battle as the surrounding air swirled and wavered like staring across the hot Sahara desert. Glancing over to Rhiannon, she seemed slightly dazed before her eyes closed gently, as if she had suddenly fallen asleep while standing there. Afraid she might fall, Steve tried to turn and catch her, but his body felt frozen and stiff. He felt his eyes droop and close, lost to the sea of darkness as it dragged him into its depths.

The air shimmered before the trio like a sun’s rays dancing and skipping along the surface of a lake. It shifted into the shape of a young, grey-eyed woman drifting to and fro as if caught in an ocean riptide, dragging her out to the violent seas. “I warned you,” the woman’s watery voice spat out, her ghostly figure circling them like a wolf ready for the kill, “Bring the other immediately. Otherwise, I will destroy all the scions, from now until the earth’s last days,” her voice sang out like whips descending on them. The robed man lifted his staff into his other hand to fend off any possible attack.

“She will not be forced to choose like you once made me,” her garbled voice rang out, filled with unchecked pain, her grey eyes flashing with barely bridled hatred, “I will not allow the three of you to destroy their lives to meet your own selfish needs.” Poison dripped like acid from each word she hurled.

“Morgana,” the dark-complected man’s voice rang out, trying to cut through the tempest she wielded, “We do not -,” his voice cut short as she disappeared from their sight, reappearing seconds later between the enchanted bodies of Rhiannon and Steve. In each of hand was a silver blade she held at their necks, ready to plunge with no regret.

“Bring the other. NOW,” her warped voice roared once more to the trio. Her wide, grey eyes flashing with disdain.

The trio could only gasp at how far she was willing to go against them, even in these dire times. They knew they would not be able to reason with the powerful enchantress; attempting to go to war against her would bring the earth to its final days. The group had hoped time would have tempered the pain and grief of losing her beloveds; help her realize the choice she made was for the greater good. The swarthy man sighed, knowing he had been beaten by the young woman he had once trained.

**New York**

It felt like hours since Steve had done his disappearing act from the compound; though, in reality, it had barely been fifteen minutes. The entire team sat in the briefing room, trying to figure out what had happened. They had only the sparsest of clues; not even enough to formulate an idea and certainly not enough for a plan to retrieve the super-soldier. Hell, they didn’t even know where he even was. With no other options, the team had lapsed into silence, eerie and quiet in the large building.

Bucky felt a hollowness inside him he hadn’t felt since the early days of breaking free of Hydra. It leeched down to his bones, then pulling it up to the surface, leaving him feel adrift. Absentmindedly, he wondered if this is how Steve felt when Bucky had disintegrated into dust after Thanos snapped his fingers.

Tony’s snark interrupted Bucky’s bleak thoughts, which, for once, he was glad of, “We need to start inserting microchips into all of us. Seriously!”

Clint raised an eyebrow, “What? Like a dog,” incredulous at the suggestion, he rolled his eyes. It only set off another round of discussion within the group. This was getting beyond ridiculous, Clint thought.

Nat sighed, her head beginning to pound with everything that happened, on what should have been, a quiet day. Avengers’, though, don’t get ‘quiet’ days, a voice reasoned back at her. Next to her, she heard Bucky sigh in disgust, as he began to stand. Glancing up at him, his face was the impenetrable mask that he always w0re; his eyes, though, were another story. Worry, frustration, and sadness filled their sky blue depths. It looks like he had had enough with all the talk, Natasha thought, he was probably ready to find some place to hide for a while.

Before Bucky could take a step, though, he let loose a bellow of pain, sending shivers down Nat’s spine as he dropped to a knee on the floor next to her. His hands gripped his skull, metal and flesh threading through mahogany hair, to keep it from exploding. Nat quickly slipped out of her chair to kneel next to Bucky’s prone and howling frame, his other knee gave way to the pain, and he fell to the floor. Her hand reached over to grip his broad shoulder, his loud screams ringing in her ears like a car crash. Glancing up at the rest of the team, she saw looks of shock, fear and concern displayed before her.

Slumped on the floor, Bucky’s screams suddenly cut short as he lapsed into unconsciousness. They didn’t even have time to lift him up before the rumbling started once again. Tony yelled over to Natasha, “Throw a tracker on him,” his voice desperate, yet insistent, “If Manchurian Candidate decides to skip out, I want to know where he goes!”

Nat nodded as she unzipped one of her vest pockets, her hands grasping one of the trackers Tony had developed some years ago. Before her, Bucky’s body began to glow, just as Steve’s body had done. She quickly pulled Bucky’s shirt collar aside on the back of his neck and stuck the tracker onto him. His body glowed brighter and the rumbling began a spiderweb of cracks, once more, along the walls and ceilings of the compound. The team could only look on helplessly as the other super soldier’s body began to rise into the air.

“Hopefully,” Natasha yelled out over the chaos surrounding them, “Bucky will be taken to the same place as Steve.” Tony nodded in response, his eyes filled with concern as the rumbling suddenly ceased and with another loud crack, Bucky Barnes disappeared as the team looked on. Their second team member lost in under an hour.

**Tintagel Castle**

Steve shook his head, once again, trying to clear the dark depths he had been dragged down to. The angry exchange between the woman that shifted like ocean waves and the trio had been broadcast in his mind. The bitterness and rage within the woman’s voice echoed through his head and the trio’s attempts to placate her came off as ingenuine and false. It was when she pointed daggers at their throats that he tried to fight against the murky depths with all of his willpower. Still, with all of his efforts, it did nothing to break the power she wielded over their bodies.

As suddenly as the darkness had flooded him, it receded just as fast, and the ghostly woman was gone. He quickly glanced over at Rhiannon to ensure she was okay; except for looking a bit dazed, she appeared fine. Loud coughing on his right, though, pulled his gaze away from the attractive, young woman to determine the source. His brows jumped on his face as he saw the man he had known for almost a hundred years sitting on the ground.“Bucky, what…” his voice trailed off as Steve rushed to help Bucky to his feet. Confusion appeared on both of their faces, staring at each other, almost to ensure the other was real, “How?”

Bucky’s keen blue eyes narrowed at the scene before him, hardening as he took in the trio. Sweeping his gaze behind Steve, his eyes landed on the dazed, young woman; a feeling from somewhere deep in his chest tugged at him. He pushed the feeling aside, though, not having time to deal with whatever it was. Grabbing Steve’s hand, Bucky hauled himself to his feet, “Where are the hell are we,” Bucky’s husky voice was low, almost carried back out to the churning sea.

“England,” Steve responded, just as quiet, “but that’s all I know.” Walking back to stand next to Rhiannon’s quiet figure. The strangely dressed trio stood before him with Bucky standing to his right. Bucky’s fingers twitched at his side, wanting desperately to reach for the Glock 17s he kept strapped in his vest. However, he waited for Steve’s signal indicating the unwanted meeting was headed south.

Next to these massive super-soldiers, Rhiannon couldn’t extinguish the shiver that shook her frame slightly. She couldn’t understand the feelings, suddenly and inexplicably, swirling within her. Instead, she pushed them deep into the darkest recesses of her brain. The last thing she wanted to deal with now or at any point in the future, for that matter, was the meaning behind the feelings suddenly erupting within her. It wasn’t as if she knew either man in a way to allow such familiar feelings to abruptly make an appearance within her.

“Now, the three of you need to explain why we are here and what the hell is going on,” Steve grounded out, not allowing for any reticence or lies.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Bucky, and Rhiannon are given answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very hard to write, so I apologize if it's not very good. I did try my best. As always, thank you for reading!

**New York**

Staring down at her StarkTech cell phone, Nat scanned for the tracker to flare onto her screen. As soon as Bucky’s body disappeared, Nat pulled out her phone, trying to triangulate Bucky’s position. Only, there was no blip; not even one at the compound indicating the tracker had fallen off when he disappeared. Looking over at Tony, Natasha shook her head; they had just lost their second super soldier in less than an hour, with no leads and no plan for recovery.

Tony couldn’t stop his shoulders from slumping in response; crossing an arm over his chest, the other cradled his chin in his hand, trying to contemplate their next move. The worry was palatable in the room; sour and sick in their nose and stomachs. This unseen force had become predatory, taking their Captain and his best friend; who would fall next as it’s victim? Would they be able to figure out what the menace was before they all disappeared?

As Natasha moved to put the cell phone back into her pocket, a tiny beep chirped from it. Quickly bringing it to her face, her sharp green eyes searched for the tiny dot on the screen. Using her finger to maneuver the on-screen map, her brow furrowed as she stared it, before looking to the team’s expectant faces.

“England,” she swallowed, “he’s in England.”

Already heading out the briefing room door, Tony called out, “Friday?”

“Yes, Boss,” an accented female voice answered from a speaker.

“Fire up the Quinjet,” glancing over his shoulder towards the team, he commanded, “We leave in 10.”

**Tintagel, England**

Merlin stared at the trio before him; he could see remnants of the ancestors past within them. It reminded him of the star-crossed souls, who had lost everything doing the best for the world they had lived in. The three individuals across from him, though, had seen battles far greater than those that came before; deep wounds of scars unable to heal. The three standing before him had already sacrificed love, innocence, trust, and dreams; their futures, their past, and their souls had turned bittersweet with all they had lost. Even with all the pain and anguish of their past, Merlin could see they hadn’t given up on so much of the good life held; love, courage, and selflessness even in the darkest of times.

Pulled from his musings by the deep, resolute voice of the captain, Merlin looked him squarely in the eye, “Now, the three of you need to explain why we are here and what the hell is going on,” Steve demanded from the strange-looking individuals.

“I am Merlin,” gesturing to the individuals standing on either side of him, “and this is Goddess Danu and God Dagda,” both individuals nodded their heads slightly in greeting as Merlin continued, addressing the three, “Rhiannon Ophelia Stewart, Steven Grant Rogers, and James Buchanan Barnes, you are gathered as the last scions of this age for a war not of your making, but one each of you must meet all the same.”

“Long before the days when Man reigned the earth, the Tuatha Dé Danann presided over all the lands. These were the people of Goddess Danu and she cared a great deal for her people” Merlin continued, before the three could start in with questions, “However, the great witch, Carman, had become jealous of Danu and the bounty her people shared in. In her rage and anger, Carman blighted the crops of the people, so they would starve. That wasn’t enough for Carman, though; she wanted the people led by the Tuatha Dé Danann and Goddess Danu to be wiped of the earth,” Merlin cleared his throat as he looked at the three individuals, “She set her three sons, Dub to create never-ending darkness; Dothur to ensure the greatest of evils besieged Goddess Danu’s people; finally, Dian to commit the most violent of acts. They marched through the lands, destroying all and drenching it in bloodshed.”

The three scions were quiet, listening to Merlin, “Back then, there were many more Gods and Goddess to battle the powerful witch and her three abhorrent offspring,” Merlin heaved a heavy sigh,” However, we are long from the old days of the great Celtic Gods and Goddesses; now, they do not carry the strength and power they once held. During the old days, these great Gods and Goddesses were able to drive Carman and her sons from the land and deep into a crypt within the sea; to be held there until the end days of the earth,” Merlin leaned against his staff, as he continued his long tale, “However, the times moved on from then and Man’s ambition and greed grew faster than rising waters of the spring floods. In their infinite curiosity and utter lack of wisdom, they clumsily unsealed the crypt. Once more, Carman and her sons, are a plague on this earth that must be stopped before the lands are turned to ash once more.”

Steve arched an eyebrow at the tall, mahogany man before him, considering his story. Well, he thought dryly, Merlin wasn’t wrong about human beings, considering the war which led him to become a super soldier or all that Bucky had gone through in Hydra’s search for power. Turning his thoughts back to the issue at hand, Steve asked, “Y0u call us ‘scions’ but what does this mean? How are we supposed to battle these beings? What are you expecting us to do when there are only three of us?”

“Every millennium, scions of truth, knowledge, strength, wisdom, and selflessness are born,” Danu continued on, her onyx eyes warm as her voice floated around the group like the song of a meadowlark, “Some obtain prestige 0n their own and others are used as an occasional vessel for spirits or the gods and goddesses.”

The scruffy god, Dagda, picked up after Danu, “Then there are those scions, like yourselves, who are set upon their path very early on. Continually faced with challenges to test their fortitude, their strength, and resolve, so they fulfill the destiny written by the stars when the universe took its first breaths.”

Merlin addressed the scions, giving each a measured look, “The three of you were chosen by the stars to be scions for souls lost over a millennium ago. Their return will herald in the return of an era lost to the mists. Their strength will become part of each of you; their powers will be part of your own. It is why the three of you have faced such battles and hardships; your souls will fuse with that of your ancestors and must still remain intact.”

Steve was still unconvinced, remembering wars and battles where people had lost so much, “So we will be combined with ancestors but still, we are only three people and you want us to battle a witch and her sons?”

Merlin countered, “Do you think these are just any ordinary ancestors you will be fused with,” his voice hardened, “These are ancestors whose power hasn’t been seen since the old Gods and Goddesses were worshiped.”

Sensing the distrust and skepticism among the three standing before her, Danu stepped in, “Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes,” the super soldiers heads turned towards, her deep brown eyes expressing only honesty and peace, “There is a reason the two of you were taken out of your own time, lost from a world you once knew. There is a reason, after everything each of you has been through, you were still able to find each other after seventy years, as brothers in arms,” the melody of her voice suddenly changed, turning haunted like the coos of a mourning dove as her eyes suddenly bore into Steve, “Remember, Steven, the price of freedom is high, it always has been,” echoing Steve’s own words back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danu - Oldest Celtic Goddess, considered the Mother Deity  
> Dagda - Cheerful chief of Celtic Gods, considered a Father Deity  
> Merlin - Advisor to Arthur and considered a powerful Druid priest  
> Carman - An evil witch and warrior of Athens  
> Dub - Son of Carman (Darkness)  
> Dothur - Son of Carman (Evil)  
> Dian - Son of Carman (Violence)  
> Tuatha Dé Danann - People of Goddess Danu


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big decisions and fluffiness

Steve considered everything he had heard from the group; back in the day, he would have thought these people were insane. Today, though, after fighting beside a talking raccoon, a tree, the God of Thunder, and confronted a genocidal purple giant; what they spoke of wasn’t so far-fetched anymore. He knew he was willing to do whatever it took to ensure the survival of humanity. However, he refused to speak for Rhiannon and Bucky; it wasn’t fair to either of them, and they had the right to lead their own lives. 

He glanced over at Bucky, who simply gave Steve an imperceptible nod. Turning to Rhiannon, though, her skin was pale and eyes were glassy; Steve was afraid she was going to faint. He could understand why; most people don’t go to war against great witches or fight along gods and goddesses. Steve took a few steps toward her, “Rhiannon,” his rich voice was gentle, trying not to startle her. 

Her gaze snapped to his, large and filled with agitation; he could see her swallow past the lump in her throat and sighed deeply. He was irritated by the actions of the group; how could they involve the young woman in this shit, he thought darkly, his eyes flashing with anger as he continued to stare. Sure, he and Buck were used to battles and war; someone forced into a battle with no desire to fight could be a huge problem, when bullets began to fly. 

Rhiannon watched Steve’s face changed from soft and warm to fury; she couldn’t help but flinch at the look. For fuck’s sake, she thought, she never signed up for this; it certainly wasn’t her fault she was standing here. She felt her own anger burn through her veins like heroin and her throat constricted at her need to yell. She would be happy to return to the chapel than to be standing here with two super soldiers and the Renaissance fair rejects from hell.

“Look, I never asked to be brought here,” her voice spat out at him, “I’m sorry you are being saddled with me,” her green eyes flashing black as her anger rose within her, turning her head to Danu, “I’m ready to leave now,” she sneered, “It’s obvious you don’t need me when you have the great Captain America and his best buddy,” her tone sharp, snide and bitter.

Only then did Steve realize how he must have appeared to the young woman; he really hadn’t meant to hurt her like that, and felt like an ass. He had been around some of the toughest women ever and, he had a feeling, if push came to shove, Rhiannon wouldn’t be afraid to shove back. He cleared his throat to apologize to her, but was stopped by the sound of Bucky’s voice, 

“Doll, you will have to excuse my friend, he can be fairly stupid,” Bucky chuckled, his blue eyes flashing warmth at the young woman, “He wasn’t mad at you; he was mad at the idiots who brought us here for involving someone that may not want to fight in an upcoming war,” Catching the attractive woman’s green-eyes with his own, “If you think you are up to the coming fight, we welcome your help,” a small smile gracing his lips. 

Steve blushed before rubbing the back of his neck with his large hand, an earnest expression on his face, “I’m sorry, Rhiannon; what Buck said is correct,” Steve paused, “If you think you are up to this, we aren’t going to say no to any help.”

Rhiannon paused, glancing around at the surrounding people; did she really think she was could do this? This was a long way from the dusty halls of the museum she loved and what they were going to face was not simply some strange guy at a bar. This was going to be life and death. Her mind flashed on her family, at home in America, and she knew she would do anything to keep them all safe. Taking a deep sigh, she leveled her gaze at Steve, no doubt resided in them, “Yes, I can do it. I want to help.”

Merlin couldn’t help but release a deep sigh of relief; he had felt the edge of panic at the thought of losing the young woman. When Morgana had appeared, threatening the scions and enforcing her will, it had alarmed him. Forcing them to bring the third scion had concerned Merlin; he had worried the union would falter. Even though it was in its infancy, the unfurling bond between them was stronger than he expected. Maybe Morgana had been right all those long years ago, Merlin thought sadly; all the pain and anguish those three had experienced could have been avoided, had he simply listened to her.

Taking a step towards the trio, he focused his attention on Steve, dismissing the conversation between the three scions, “At one time, a great king was born in the castle which once stood on these grounds,” he paused as he began tapping his staff on the ground, harder and harder, until sparks flew around it, like a hammer forging a weapon. With one final crack on the ground the earth opened in front of the Druid priest and a great broadsword rose in front of them. The blade flared in the sun’s light, polished until the sheen was almost blinding; the well-made pommel appeared to have been crafted out of the softest, brown leather. 

Rhiannon couldn’t stop the gasp escaping her lips, “Is that…,” her words caught in her throat as she stared at the blade. She gaze passed slowly down the hilt, the markings displaying its mythical legacy. 

“Excalibur,” Dagda supplied, a large grin overtaking his weather-worn face, “She is one of the finest and truest swords to ever been forged.”

Steve listened to those around him, though his gaze never strayed from Merlin’s obsidian eyes. Merlin continued, “As I said, a great king was once born here,” with a wave of his staff, the sword levitated horizontally in the air, “And a great king must now awaken from his slumber here.”

With those final words, harnessing the force of a typhoon, Merlin drove the sword deep into the ocean, before it embedded in the bedrock under the waves. Turning back to the golden-haired super soldier, “Steven Grant Rogers, take your place in the hall of great kings,” Merlin arm swept wide towards the churning ocean waves, which lay past the cliffs of Tintagel headland. Without a second thought of his actions, resolve etched on the masculine planes of his face, Steve ran headlong off the cliff before diving into the dark ocean waves below. 

“Steve,” Rhiannon cried out, not even considering her behavior as she ran after him before she was stopped short by two strong arms; one warm, flesh, and blood, the other cool and metal. They wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her into hard planes of a muscular frame, foiled from hurtling to her death. 

Tears sprung to Rhiannon’s green eyes, dark with anger, ready to lash out at the person who had tried to stop her from going after Steve. Turning in their strong arms, she stopped short as she stared into stoic blue eyes, tempered by haunted memories. Rhiannon could only collapse against Bucky, tears spilling from her eyes, her anger seeping way into sadness. 

She breathed in his scent of gunpowder, machine oil, and clean sweat; she couldn’t stop the hushed whisper from escaping her lips, brushing like soft feathers against his collarbone, “Bucky.” His strong arms tightened around her at the sound of his name, the feel of her lips against his skin. 

Standing in the warmth of his arms, Rhiannon tried to push away the feelings, which drove her to run after Steve; a yearning she was beginning to fear. The tears streaming down her cheeks, she chalked up to how exhausting the day was leaving her. She couldn’t even find the energy to break out of Bucky’s gentle h0ld on her. This behavior was nothing like her; she wasn’t the girl that needed to be held. Not the girl who cried openly, let alone on the shoulder of a complete stranger, no matter how good-looking he was or how great he smelled. 

A baser part of her body had begun to sing to her like a siren; Rhiannon immediately tried to squash those thoughts. She didn’t even know these men, barely had met them an hour ago and now she was cuddled against one of them. Maybe her medication needed an adjustment, she thought briefly, making a note to call her psychiatrist...whenever she found her phone. How was she even going to get back to Roslin, she groaned, let alone find her damn phone!

Bucky shifted his weight slightly, pulling her from her musings with the movement. Brought out of her daze, she pushed against Bucky broad chest, stumbling backwards out of his strong arms. She schooled her face into the icy glare she spent years perfecting as she stared up at him; her eyes, though betrayed her turbulent thoughts. Bucky wanted to pull her back, but, instead, arched a dark brown eyebrow at her in response. He watched her eyes like an old picture show, full of uncertainty, aggravation, dismay, and a healthy dose of desire; the last of which threw him for a loop as he stared down at her. 

Glancing over at the trio of Renaissance wannabes, before glancing back at Bucky, she took of at a dead run. She had believed she could fight this witch; the feelings the two men stirred within her, though, were too much. She had to escape, she wasn’t a superhero, Rhiannon reasoned; she was a girl from the Midwest, who thought seeing the world would be a fun idea a few months ago. Now, she simply wanted to go back home and forget this ever happened. She knew if she could make it to the bridge, she would be able to escape the craziness of the last hour. Certainly with two super soldiers, they definitely had no use for her, her thoughts raced wildly, as she ran. She was almost there, she could make it. 

Rhiannon was stopped short, though, as the woman draped in the royal blue gown, appeared before her suddenly, like a camera flash. Standing face to face with Danu, she sobbed out, “Please let me pass,” her eyes flashed with sorrow, sobs caught in Rhiannon’s throat.

Danu smiled sympathetically at the young woman; she knew Rhiannon had already battled through so much, “You know I cannot, Rhiannon Ophelia Stewart,” Danu continued gently, “You are needed more than you realize. Those men will need you, and soon.” Walking over to the young woman, “The world needs you, my dear.” Danu whispered, stopping in front of Rhiannon, as she clasped her hands in front of her.

“Why? I’m no one,” Rhiannon replied, her voice strained with the emotions she was trying to keep in check.

“Oh, my sweet child, you are the key to all of this,” Danu’s affirmed, “You are everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is enjoying the story! Let me know your thoughts or give kudos! It's all appreciated :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve retrieves Excalibur and talks with a King

It wasn’t the first time he jumped off something without a safety net; jumping off a cliff wouldn’t hurt nearly as bad as jumping off the fortieth floor of S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve hit the water like a bullet, piercing through the churning ocean waves. The sea’s brine stung his blue eyes as he peered through the dark water, searching for the sword the druid had driven into the ocean floor. Treading water, he spun around, searching for glinting metal in the pinpricks of sunlight able to penetrate the swirling current. Unable to make out anything quite yet, he swam forward; his strong, muscular legs kicking behind him as his arms cleaved passage through the water.

He delved deeper into the current, heading towards the bottom of the ocean. Tiny, blue lights began glowing around him, swirling and spinning, like his own brick road, leading him through the water. The further he followed the lights, the more that appeared before him, beckoning him forward. As he reached the bottom, the lights seemed to glow like neon lights in Las Vegas. Searching, his eyes finally landed a few feet beneath him; the metal appearing the glow in the darkness, highlighted a dazzling blue from the tiny lights.

A halo of sunlight seemed to circle the sword, which had been driven deep into the ocean floor; the little blue lights appeared to dance with merriment in the light of the halo. Steve could feel his lungs burning, desperate with the need for air. It didn’t stop him from diving further forward, further deeper. Something deep within Steve told him if he returned to the surface for air, without the sword, it would be lost to him forever.

His lungs screaming, he lunged forward one last time. His fingertips grazing the leather before finally closing his fist around the pommel. With a powerful yank, he pulled the broadsword out of the ocean bedrock. The water seemed to shudder and heave around him before a flash of intense light turned everything white. The water was suddenly gone and in its place was a man, a bit older than him. He was sitting on a rock with deep etchings carved into it, hands gripped between his legs as his head hung between shoulders. He lifted his head and Steve was greeted with a fierce, dark blue gaze. His long, thick blond hair was pulled away from his face, decorated with various braids, and a thick beard surrounded his jaw. The man’s clothing reminded Steve of Dagda, though he was dressed in blacks and grays.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” the man called out, his voice was rough and powerful, in the quiet surrounding him, “Wielder of Mjölnir and the great shield,” the man stood, walking towards him before stopping a few feet short of Steve, “I have waited a long time for you.”

Steve’s grip tightened on the sword, watching the older man approach, “Who are you?”

“I am Arthur Pendragon,” the man stated, staring at Steve, “It is good to meet you. One truly worthy of the power of Excalibur; more worthy than even myself,” a smirk lifted Arthur’s lips, though deep sadness haunted those dark blue spheres, “She will make a fine companion for you in battle,” a wide grin, full of bright white teeth, broke his tanned and weathered face before it slid away; eyes, once again, clouded, “You are not as ruthless as I was, which is probably to your benefit. I let pain cloud my judgment and came to regret it before I died.”

Steve stared at the older man, taking in all he said before choosing his words carefully, “I do have regrets, but I don’t let them cloud my decisions or judgments,” his voice firm, unyielding.

“You are certainly smarter than me by half,” Arthur snorted, “Yes, the stars did choose well this time,” once again sobering, “but I bring a warning, from Morgana.”

“Oh, you mean the woman who tried to kill me and the young woman,” Steve chided, his voice harsh, his blue eyes flashed a warning.

Arthur sighed, “Give me a moment to explain,” he paused, waiting until Steve nodded, before he chose to proceed, “A long time ago, she watched Lancelot and I pass on, leaving her behind to carry on without us,” Arthur paused, trying to find a way for Steve to understand, “Back then, we were forced onto different paths by people we thought who knew best. We loved each other and were torn apart because the world’s greatest weakness is power. It always seems, whenever love goes against power, love always loses,” Arthur paused, clearing his throat and mind of hurtful memories of the past, “Morgana simply refused to let power win again.”

Still seeing mistrust in his scion’s eyes, Arthur continued with a deep sigh, “Morgana, Lancelot, and I were deeply in love with one another. When we were of age, Morgana was forced, by Merlin and Vivian, into a marriage with a man she didn’t love. Lancelot stayed by my side, watching another woman he loved, marry me” sorrow and torment filling his eyes, "and I...I was placed onto the path of King of Britannia,” Arthur swallowed back the emotion trying to choke him; even after a millennium, the memories could still make his whole body hurt, “Morgana believes Vivian and Merlin’s meddling led to the death of Lancelot, myself, and the end of Camelot,” Arthur paused once more, looking back to Steve’s lighter blue eyes, “and I agree with her.”

Steve could feel the loss and anguish within the older man; like it was his own pain, “So her attempt at trying to kill myself and Rhiannon was for what, then?”

“To avoid another three lives lost to tragedy,” Arthur defended,” and to ensure Merlin brought forth the third scion. If Morgana hadn’t interceded, the three of you would end up in the same position as we were,” Arthur grimaced, “History is circular, and we couldn’t allow it to happen again.”

Steve paused, his thoughts directed suddenly to Bucky, “So that’s why Bucky suddenly showed up,” looking at Arthur, “Bucky wasn’t part of Merlin’s initial plan?”

“Merlin is a man of unrivaled intelligence; a great advisor and extraordinary in battle and war,” Arthur advised, “He has great knowledge regarding the past, present, and future world, but little understanding of people and their desires, their hearts,” Arthur sighed, deeply, “I would take Merlin’s advice for war and battle any day. I would never trust him with the people I loved ever again.”

Steve nodded, understanding how people could get tunnel vision; it reminded him of a little of Tony. Incredible intelligence, willing to do anything for the world, and ability to meet any battle head-on; people, however, were never his strong suit. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve replied, soberly.

Arthur nodded; he could see understanding in Steve’s eyes, “I will be by your side, to the end, Captain.”

With those final words, Arthur was gone; Steve was once again surrounded by the ocean. He swam towards the water’s surface, broadsword in tow. Breaking through the waves, Steve gulped fresh air into his lungs. The ocean pushed and pulled at his body as his breathing slowed. Turning towards land, his gaze took in the shoreline spread before him; swimming towards it, his progress was slowed by the sword still clutched in his hand.

Several minutes later, he had reached the shallows, trudging up the beach with Excalibur dragging quietly behind him in the sand. Blinking, Steve saw three figures standing on the beach, waiting patiently for his return from the deep. Bucky stood off to the side, hands shoved deep into his pockets; his eyes, as always, on constant guard with the ever-present, unreadable mask on his face. A slight smirk caused a small crack on the cool exterior of the super-soldier as he watched Steve splash through the waves breaking the shore; his hand gripping the broadsword tightly, Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Merlin and Dagda off to the side, their eyes on Steve as made his way onto the beach.

Making his way over to the trio, Steve watched Merlin approach him. A smile was on Merlin’s face, ready to congratulate the younger man in obtaining Excalibur; Merlin never got a chance, though. “Where is Rhiannon,” Steve asked, his voice reminded Bucky of ice; cold and hard, as Steve stared at the two men. He stood next to Steve, his hands resting casually at his sides, though they itched to reach for the Glock 17s within his vest. Bucky had had enough of the trio’s games, anyway.

Merlin released a frustrated sigh, annoyed by Steve’s request; he had hoped to put a bit of distance between scions and the bond quickly forming between them. It was forging quicker than he had anticipated. “She is safe, currently with Danu,” Merlin attempted to soothe, which only increased the insistence of Steve’s gaze and a weight Merlin hadn’t felt in many, many years. Arthur. He was there, his authority added to the super-soldier. Merlin floundered, attempting once more, “We will be meeting up with them again in a few days,” feeling stricken, Merlin had believed Arthur would always be on his side.

“No,” Steve’s voice resounded, the will of Arthur resonating within him, “You will take us to her now, or I am done,” Steve declared, driving the broadsword deep into the beach, taking a step toward Merlin, “That blade will rust before I help you. Take us to Rhiannon now.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhiannon and Danu begin work on a magic ritual

The midday sun beamed down on the duo as they stood before the looming tower. The spring breeze hinted of apple blossoms, even though the hillside was sparse of any trees. Lush grass and field greens covered the grooved hillside, with the tower’s skeleton standing on at the hill’s peak; austere and striking against the bright, blue sky. The sing-song of birds chimed through it’s empty shell, ringing throughout as they built their nests.

“Glastonbury Tor,” Rhiannon inquired, turning to look at the jet-haired woman standing next to her, questions filled her soft, green eyes. She turned back to look up at the Tor, “What are we doing here? Where is Bucky? What happened to Steve,” her voice became more demanding and piercing with each question, “Take me back to Tintagel now!”

Danu’s face held her everlasting smile, “They are safe, and we will see them soon,” her smile grew, her white teeth flashed behind her beamed, “I told you, child, you are everything. You simply need open the door to see this.”

Rhiannon stared at the woman, more confused than before, “You must forgive me, Danu, er... Goddess,” she sighed, rubbing her temple in exasperation, “There are doorways on the Tor, but the doors have been gone for quite some time.”

Danu threw her head back, her laughter echoed across the hills, the birds appeared to dance around her, enjoying her merriment. A pretty, white and dusty brown Sand Martin landed on Danu’s shoulder, chirping wildly in Danu’s ear as it hopped around. Danu appeared to be listening to the small bird, her head nodding in understanding, “Oh it’s quite alright,” lifting the martin onto her fingers, she spoke to it, “She is still learning.”

Rhiannon was sure the woman was insane, watching the Goddess talk to the bird like she understood the bird’s chirping. It fluttered away as Danu waved her hand and, in a blink of an eye, the scene before Rhiannon changed again. Opening her eyes, they were deep inside a gnarled, old forest blanketed in a thick layer of heavy, dark moss, saturating every nook and cranny. She could hear a small stream, bubbling and gurgling, in the background as it raced down the hill. Pricks of sunlight glowed through the trees, cutting through the dark mists, which surrounded the women. She couldn’t help feel as if she was in the land of the Fae, half expecting to see hobgoblins and trolls scurrying about.

Turning back to Rhiannon, Danu spoke, “Only those bestowed with the favor of the Fae may open the door, However, before it can be opened, we need to gather an item first.”

“What do we need to gather,” Rhiannon asked, “What should I be looking for?”

Looking at the young woman, Danu replied, “Unlike with Captain Rogers, awakening your scion requires very old magic, which means we need to gather glastum, to perform the ritual.”

“Glastum,” Rhiannon questioned, “Are we making woad? Won’t that take weeks?”

Walking off to find the necessary plant, Danu called out, “Not the way I make it.”

Rhiannon watched the Goddess walk away, before turning around to search for the small plant in the old forest. Picking through the different bushes in her search, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from straying to the two super soldiers they had left at Tintagel. Danu had said they would be fine, but she couldn’t help worry about Steve, her mind replaying his plunge off the cliffs into the foaming ocean waves. Her reaction to Steve’s leap and being comforted in Bucky’s arms after, though, was beyond her; she wasn’t normally driven by such uncontrollable emotions.

Having seen and been through her fair share of insanity, she couldn’t understand what was driving her current behavior. It had been an incredibly stressful day, though; between shifting from location to location all over England and Scotland. Waking up surrounded by the Renaissance troupe and a couple of super soldiers; yeah, stressful was a complete understatement. This was definitely different from the normal amount of crazy, which had a habit of surrounding her.

After several hours of gathering the tiny, glastum leaves, Danu finally decreed they had enough to mix up the woad she required for the incantation. With a crack, they departed the beautiful woods and found themselves back at Glastonbury Tor. Out of the thick forest, Rhiannon was surprised by the amount of time which had passed. Looking toward the western horizon, the sun was setting, filling the sky with pinks, reds, yellows, oranges, and purples. Rhiannon wished she had her cell phone, so she could capture all the stunning colors.  
Turning toward Glastonbury Tor, Rhiannon could see Steve, with Excalibur strapped to his back, and Bucky talking near one of the two archways. They were talking amongst themselves, but she was too far away to make out anything they were saying. Near them, stood Merlin leaning against his gnarled staff and Dagda with a cheerful smile on his face as he gazed across the land. Rhiannon was so relieved to see Steve standing next to Bucky, she couldn’t stop from running and launching herself at him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, knowing he was safe after plunging headlong into the ocean, brought stinging tears to her emerald eyes. She breathed deeply, trying to steady her racing heart, but the smell of soap, clean laundry, and fresh cut wood, only made it skip a like a broken record in her chest.

Steve grunted at the impact of a body hitting his and took a step back to steady himself, gazing down at the dark-headed woman wrapped around him. His powerful arms wrapped around her waist to prevent her from falling over as she plowed into him. The scent of lavender, vanilla, and lemon floated in the air as Steve held the young woman; he inhaled it deeply into his lungs. He could feel her tears fall onto his t-shirt as they soaked through to his skin; he couldn’t help but hold her a bit tighter against him.

Rhiannon could feel his broad, warm chest against her face and hear his strong heartbeat, reassuring her he was still alive, “Steve,” she whispered, her voice lost in his chest.

As if caught in a dream, he lifted a hand to her face, grasping her chin in his large palm, bringing her eyes to meet his. As they stared at each other, time crawled; she watched his eyes flash from cobalt to gold and something deep within her soul trembled. Hot tears flooded her eyes once more, exhaling in relief that he was safe. She felt Steve lean his forehead against hers as she closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m okay. I’m safe,” he said to her softly, pulling back once more to look into her green eyes, watching them grow dark as emotion flooded them, “It’ll be alright.” He watched as she took a deep breath, steadying herself before finally pulling back, her face slightly dazed and shy.

A cough to the side brought Rhiannon screeching back to the present, stumbling from Steve’s arms; her blushing face showed bewilderment and frustration. First Bucky, now Steve; what in the actual hell is wrong with her, she berated herself. Rhiannon couldn’t wait for all this to be finished, so she could go back to her boring life, which didn’t include two dangerously gorgeous super soldiers. Liar, a voice whispered back, and liars go to hell, it laughed, which only caused her to grimace. These two men were both causing her to lose her damn mind; what little she had left of it, anyway.

“Are you ready, Rhiannon,” Danu called out, “We need to get started.”

Once again, Rhiannon jumped, startled back to reality. She dared a final look at Steve, his eyes once again blue and full of emotions, “Erm, yes, sorry. I’m coming,” racing back to Danu, not daring to look back at the emotions, which so matched her own.

A little while later, the sun had finally fallen past the horizon, the sky now filled with deep plums and navy blues; a heavy mist had rolled in, covering the ground in thick dew. Reaching Danu, Rhiannon watched as she waved a hand at the ground, a circular glyph appearing in its wake with runes of truth on the outer rings of the glyph. The runes glowed pale white in the twilight, giving the appearance of tiny ghosts in the mists. With the other hand, the Goddess conjured a dress of cream; the cloth was soft and woven with intricate designs of golden thread, leading to golden laces across the back.

“You will need to wear this gown,” Danu said, handing off the gown to the chestnut haired woman, “Once you are dressed, we can get started.”

Exasperated at this point, Rhiannon crossed her arms over her chest, “Why does it matter what I wear,” currently dressed in a comfy old, light pink hoodie and a pair of blue jeans.

“In order to open the door to the otherworld, clothes made there must be worn by its protector,” Danu responded as Rhiannon took the gown from the Goddess’ hands, only then realizing there really wasn’t anywhere to change. “Go on, my dear,“ Danu chastised, motioning to the Tor, “The moon is almost nigh. We’ve no time to waste on being bashful,” she chuckled lightly, giving Rhiannon a slight nudge toward the Tor.

“But…” Rhiannon babbled, trying one last time to save some of her dignity, but Danu had turned back, crushing the glastum in the stone pestle she held in her hands to make the woad.

Her shoulders sagging, Rhiannon trudged like a petulant child toward the Tor, stealing furious glances at the two men underneath her lashes. Sure, both men had held her in their arms and the feelings she had experienced were like none she had felt before. All the other men she had been with, she had never felt the tugs on her heart. Never had she felt an enigmatic pull to another human being before. Not until now, not until these two men. It left her feeling so unsettled and off balance; each interaction felt like her soul was being bound to them. A few feet from the men, she squared her shoulders, she could do this, she thought, they were only men after all. “Excuse me,” she said softly, moving past the super soldiers, who moved out of her way immediately.

“Hey, Rhiannon,” Steve called out as she started through the archway. She was startled to a stop, turning to face him, “We are glad you are safe, too. We were worried about you.”

Rhiannon blushed, thankfully hidden in the twilight, “Oh...um... I’m happy the two of you are, too,” before scurrying into the Tor to change. Finding a darkened corner out of the view of the men, she quickly shed out of her clothes. Pulling the soft dress over her head, she felt the silken cloth caress her soft skin. She realized, then, she wouldn’t be able to lace up the back of the gown without assistance. She tried several times on her own, hoping she wouldn’t have to ask for help. With a growl of frustration, she wanted to scream at how shitty this day had become.

Resigned, she held the dress against her body, walking over to the archway. It’s no big deal, she reasoned, they probably do this sort of thing tons for their girlfriends; the last word caused her stomach to clench annoyingly in response. “Um, excuse me,” she said to the men, their backs turned to her to give her some privacy. They turned to look at her, “Could one of you help me with the back of this,” turning her back toward them.

Bucky moved to the side, giving Steve room to help her. He stepped forward as he took in the exposed, feminine slope of her back, appearing to almost glow in the pale moonlight. Steve reached out and took the gold threads laying loosely at her sides, he began weaving them through the eyelets on the back of the dress. His fingertips occasionally grazing her soft skin, causing involuntary shivers to slip slide down her back. His voice was deep and thick as he uttered apologies for every graze against her body, catching her head bob in acceptance out of the corner of his eye. The air surrounding them became intoxicating as Steve worked on threading the dress. Behind them, Bucky watched the two of them performing such a mundane, yet incredibly intimate act. Bucky tried to crush the arousal he felt flaring inside him, with little achievement.

Steve finished threading the dress and tied a small bow at the nape of her neck; it took all of his willpower not to place a kiss there. The desire to learn what her skin may taste like under his tongue was nearly impossible to ignore. Instead, he trailed his fingers down her back, forcing them to rest at his side. The entire time, though, he wanted to grab her and pull her to him as she moved away.

The feel of his rough hands on her skin, earned from so many battles and missions he had fought, Yet, at the same time, they were so gentle with the thread of the dress; the entire exchange had left her feeling like molten metal. She was thrilled to simply still be standing and without needing their help.

“Thank you,” Rhiannon whispered, her voice trembling like earthquakes in their ears. Hurrying back to Danu, she missed the looks shared between Steve and Bucky. She could feel their eyes, though, as she walked away; it felt like she was suddenly easy prey for a pair of very hungry wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to spend some time cleaning up the previous chapters I have already written. It may be a bit for the next chapter to be published as I do have appointments coming up in the next few days. I will be back soon, though. I have five chapters written ahead and can't wait for everyone to read them. Stay safe everyone and I hope you are all enjoying the story.
> 
> Glastonbury Tor, according to Arthurian legend, is supposedly the site of the Isle of Avalon because of the thick mist surrounding it. In addition, back in the early Middle Ages, the hill Glastonbury Tor is located on, was surrounded by marsh. When I reviewed pictures of the Tor, especially near dusk, it does look like a great island. When it used to be Glastonbury Abbey, the monks had claimed to find the graves of King Arthur and Queen Genevieve. However, they also needed some renovations done and historians believe they started the myth about their graves in order to gain funding. Okay, I'm done with the history lesson for the day lol.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ceremony is performed and entrance is granted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in following me, you can find me on tumblr at the same username I have here; same underscoring is used there, as well. Enjoy the chapter! :)

The night had settled around them by the time Rhiannon returned to Danu. The cool air chilled Rhiannon, clothed only in the beautiful yet thin dress; what she wouldn’t give for her pink hoodie right now. The grass was damp under her bare feet, covered by the heavy mists surrounding them. Tiny fires dotted the landscape around the glyph, lighting a path to follow in the darkness. In the distance, a Corn Crake’s eerie call echoed around the hill and the surrounding valley.

“You look extraordinary,” Danu exclaimed gently, looking at the young woman, “We are ready to start,” motioning towards the large boulder off to the side, “Please sit, I need to anoint you in woad,” the stone pestle clutched in her dark brown hands.

Looking at the blue goop in the stone pestle, she wasn’t looking forward to being covered in it. Rhiannon simply sighed, though, knowing any of her wishes would be ignored, she settled onto the boulder behind her. Coming to stand before the young woman, Danu began painting intricate Celtic designs on Rhiannon’s delicate skin. The brush used was soft. though the woad was cold, making her feel more chilled in the cool night breeze. Starting at her face, the brush trailed down her arms and over her chest before ending at her back. The woad felt thick and heavy on her skin, almost like a mud face mask; maybe it would exfoliate her pores a bit, Rhiannon thought offhandedly.

Task completed, Danu set down the pestle and brush, before turning back to Rhiannon, “Are you ready?”

Resigned to whatever the group had in store, Rhiannon simply stood up; Danu nodded, turning, and walked over to stand next to the glyph. As Rhiannon turned toward the circle, she was surprised to see various animals staggered around it. Grasping Rhiannon’s hand, Danu led her to the center of the glyph. Once at the heart, Rhiannon watched the runes glow brighter around her; their ghosts seeming to grow in the heavy mists.

Looking outside the circle, Rhiannon watched Steve and Bucky approach the outskirts of the glyph. Both men had their arms crossed over their chests, their gazes locked on the face of the young woman standing inside the center. Neither of their expressions was readable from this distance, though. Danu stood outside the circle, directly in front of Rhiannon. On the sides of the circle, Merlin and Dagda walked around the outside it before coming to a stop to Rhiannon’s left and right,

Danu raised her deep brown arms into the night sky and Rhiannon watched as Merlin and Dagda followed her queue. Her melodic voice changed, taking on a richer and deeper tone as it sailed over the heavy mist, filling the night:

“Shadows of the dead arise,  
echoes of the past awake.  
Spirits here my words this night  
the veil I cause to break.  
Sing your songs of land and seas  
and skies of midnight blue.  
My spell I chant  
these words I sing  
in memory of you.”

As Danu spoke the incantation, the woad on Rhiannon’s body began to glow, soft, and blue. Once the Incantation was complete, Danu walked around the circle to the animals, who seemed unafraid of the Goddess. They seemed to be patiently waiting to greet the Goddess as she passed by them. Danu paused at each animal; the rabbit, boar, hare, deer, cat, and rat, and bowed to each one. Leaning in, Danu kissed each one on the top of its head, before watching each animal collapsed to the ground, then moving onto the next. With each animal she kissed, their soul was collected, and in the dark night, she began to glow a blazing gold.

Having collected the last soul, Danu turned to Rhiannon, “The animals have granted you their life force to help you along your journey,” waving her hand towards the animals' bodies, “The rabbit to guide you through the underworld. The deer to help you understand this world and the other world. The hare for greater strength of the divine feminine already within you. The cat to have the perception to see life as it is. The rat to elevate your devotion, should it waver. Finally, the boar so you may connect with your ancestors.”

With that, Danu stepped closer to Rhiannon before leaning forward and kissing her deeply. Rhiannon was shocked by the Goddess’ behavior, unable to respond at first, but slowly fell in with the languid and captivating kiss. Rhiannon could feel her body grow warm and pliant, like laying in the sun on a lazy summer day. Slowly ending the kiss, Danu pulled away, watching Rhiannon’s body glow gold, from the souls accepting her, and blue, from the woad. She glistened like an exceptional jewel set against the dark, starry night. Standing outside the circle, watching her with eyes filled with want, two super-soldiers were ensnared in the magic of Rhiannon.

As Danu walked out of the glyph, Rhiannon could see the runes had stopped glowing in the darkness. She, however, was luminous in blue and gold with the moon beaming down on her. Glancing towards the super-soldiers as they stood outside the circle, she still couldn’t see their expressions in the shadows of the night. However, she could feel the weight of their stare, could feel the heat radiating from Steve and Bucky in the distance that separated them. She averted her head from the two men, hoping to bury the heat in her own gaze. To stow away the feelings she couldn’t seem to conceal from them at this moment.

Danu pulled her attention away from the soldiers, “It is time to open Avalon to the world once again.”

Minutes later, Rhiannon stood before the archway inside Glastonbury Tor. Through the archway, she could see the patchwork quilt hills of the English countryside, highlighted in the pale moonlight. On the other side of the Tor, in the other archway stood Merlin, Dagda, and Danu with Steve and Bucky, off to the side. All of their eyes were centered on Rhiannon, it made her want to crawl into an empty hole, being the focus of everyone’s attention. If this didn’t work, she was going to look like an utter fool covered in woad and dressed in a beautiful gown of gold and white in the middle of the night.

The gold and blue hues, which had made her glow like a beacon in the night, had dimmed since she had left the heart of the glyph. Standing there, Rhiannon couldn’t fathom how she was even supposed to open a door that didn’t exist. Danu, Dagda, and Merlin hadn’t given her any clues, after the incantation, on how she was supposed to proceed. Instead, the three of them just continued to stand there and stare, making her feel more idiotic the longer she was there.

As the moon reached its zenith in the night sky, Rhiannon saw the English hills appear to tremble. The trembling quickly turned to waves, as if a pool of water had recently been disturbed. Raising a hand toward the waves, she pressed forward, her hand sinking below the wave. Beneath her fingertips, she felt smooth, polished wood and gasped at the feeling, Her eyes widened as Rhiannon watched, mouth agape, as the waves floated away, turning into a door, intricately inlaid with wood and silver. As the door appeared before the group, Steve and Bucky straightened, shocked by the magic surrounding them.

Glancing to the side, Steve saw Danu smile encouragingly as she walked toward the door, followed closely by Merlin and Dagda. Looking at Bucky, Steve watched him shrug his shoulders, his deep blue eyes filled with resignation. Bucky motioned Steve forward, as always, ready to protect his friend’s back from whatever danger may be lurking behind them. Following behind Merlin to the doorway, Steve watched Rhiannon reach down and slowly turn the ornate door handle, pushing the door open.

As the door slid open, a blast of warm air, scented with apples and moss, surrounded them. Rhiannon could only stare at the sight which greeted them. In the glistening light of dusk, an expansive lake, so smooth it looked like a mirror, lay before them with a small, weathered dock jutting into it. Next to the dock sat a paddleboat, made of Scots Pine with intricate Celtic designs carved into the wood. A heavy mist floated like a paper airplane above the lake; swaying in the light breeze as it hovered there. In the distance, the tips of Avalon seemed to sail above the mists, like a castle drifting in the rose gold sky. Creatures, unknown to Rhiannon, Steve, and Bucky, appeared around them; flashing like giant fireflies of all colors, dazzling the group.

It was like a scene taken straight out of Rhiannon’s childhood dreams; she couldn’t stop the smile gracing her lips and sparkling in her eyes. Glancing behind her, she saw Steve and Bucky watching her, both mirror images of tender smiles and heavy gazes as they stared back at her. It made her heart shudder, speeding up in her chest as she looked at the two men, who made her feel things she had never thought existed. Turning back, she walked through the doorway, feeling like she was crossing the threshold to Narnia and Alice in Wonderland, all rolled into one amazing fantasy world, before making her way down to the dock.

The others followed suit, with Steve and Bucky, still bringing up the rear. Glancing behind him, Steve realized the intricate door had disappeared, though the air still appeared to shimmer in front of him; the skeleton of the Glastonbury Tor and a path leading back down the grooved hillside remained beyond the shimmer. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Dorothy had felt when her home had landed in Oz. Looking to Bucky, he remarked, “Let's hope flying monkeys aren’t one of the inhabitants here,” watching as Bucky grinned, nodding his head in agreement.

As the group approached the dock, an older woman with pale greenish skin appeared from the lake. She looked as if she had spent a lifetime on the lake bottom, feeding on algae and water plants. Below her, water erupted like a fountain, holding her aloft. Her body was clothed in a tattered and frayed, long dress stained by the dark lake waters. Her long, dark green hair reminded Rhiannon of long kelp leaves floating in the sea. Holding a long arm toward the group, they saw her skin was like fish scales, shimmering like abalone in the setting sun.

Beckoning the group forward, she called out, “James Buchanan Barnes,” gazing at Bucky with sunken eyes, glowing florescent green, her voice was hoarse and intense, “In two days time, the Green Man will be ready. Caliburn has been waiting a long time to be reunited with you.”

As quickly as the woman had appeared, she disappeared, dissolving into the heavy mists sailing on the lake. Bucky simply stared at the spot the woman had appeared at; as always, his face was unreadable as he digested the woman’s words. He glanced over at Steve, who nodded back; words did not need to be said, knowing Steve would always be there for him. Turning his head back to the group, he caught Rhiannon’s gaze; something within him surged as she watched him. The look in her vivid green eyes made him feel a strength beyond his physical abilities; for the first time in a very long time, he felt accepted without any apology needed.

Ducking his head, Bucky cleared his throat as Steve caught his eye, a slight smirk on his face. Bucky couldn’t help the grin from sliding on his face as he followed behind Steve on the path to the dock. Reaching the boat, the group clambered in, with Bucky in rear and Steve at front; the rest of the group huddled in the middle. Both men grabbed an oar and began paddling their way across the lake to Avalon. The young woman and the two super-soldiers were apprehensive and deep in thought, unknowing what the island would have in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for being so patient with me. I was excited to get back to the story and I hope you enjoy the chapter. The incantation used in this chapter I found in "The Book of Celtic Magic" by Kristoffer Hughes. It fit so perfectly for this scene, so I had to use it. In addition, the information regarding the animals and their abilities can be found in the same book. I have found it especially helpful with this chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to the submarine crew?

**Present Day**

**Somewhere in the Irish Sea**

Trina could smell wood smoke swirling in the musty, damp air. Her mind and body felt unburdened by stress or pain as she lay on the hard ground; feeling damp dirt under her nails and sharp rocks cutting into her back and hips. Blinking her pale ice eyes open slowly, she took in an expansive coal-black sky stretched above her prone figure, filled with tiny stars, tossed hither and yon. Her body felt like it had been through a meat grinder; every part of her frame like child’s Play-Doh, crushed under the weight of it’s fist.

As her pale eyes came into focus, she realized she wasn’t laying underneath a starry night sky; instead, it was a cave of twinkling, black star diopside, illuminated by nearby firelight. Sitting up, she saw the small fire next to her; it’s light was hardly enough to chase the dark shadows of the cave away. She was pretty sure she was alone, but she couldn’t be sure, the shadows seemed to surround her on all sides. As she looked around, she wondered how she ended up here; the last she remembered, they were approaching the second drill site when everything just went black. What happened to Bryan, Mitch, and Charlie, she thought, looking around the dark cave. Towards what appeared to be the mouth, there was a small pool of water; maybe they swam for help, she paused to consider the possibility.

“Ah, good, you are finally awake,” a woman’s voice rang throughout the chamber; her tenor was harsh and bitter. The cruelness dripping from the voice made Trina cringe in fear.

“Who are you,” she called out, scrambling to her feet as she looked for a weapon to defend herself, but only finding small rocks and the fire.

The voice ignored her question as the being swum languidly in the shadows and darkness surrounding Trina, “Did you like the oil slick I sent out,” the voice laughed mockingly, “I knew you stupid humans would come to look at it. Always so curious,” the voice drawled out in Trina’s ear, sending the young woman scurrying to the other side of the fire, her gaze hunting for a place to hide, like a frightened mouse being stalked by a feral cat.

The voice simply laughed at the young woman's antics, scurrying around like diseased vermin. Trina couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes, her body awash with fear that made her queasy, though she still called out, “Where is Mitch? Or Charlie and Bryan? What did you do to them,” her voice shuddered like the string on a bow; her body taut with terror.

A horrific giggle issued from the creature, “Oh! The men? My sweet sons are entertaining them at the moment,” the voice crooned, watching as the young woman began to cry, only causing the creature to laugh maniacally.

Her knees gave way, succumbing to the terror she felt, Trina collapsed next to the fire, her head cradled in her knees as she began to cry harder, “Please,” her voice pleading as it caught on her tears, “Please, just let me go.”

The laughter erupted again, hysterical with undeniably murderous ambitions, the female voice screamed out at the stupid human, “GO,” the snickering continued, “Where do think you are going to go?”

Above Trina, the walls and the black star stones lining the cave suddenly vanished. All around her, she saw the ocean as she lay inside a protected bubble. A large Minke whale swam through the currents with her calf in tow. Schools of cod raced around the whale and through the oil rig beams. Conger eels poked their heads out of the rocks, looking for the next tasty morsel to swim into their gaping jaws. Spotted Eagle Rays flapped massive wingspans, gliding effortlessly towards the ocean’s surface.

Some two thousand feet beneath the waves, Trina realized the horrible implications before her, hitting her like an asteroid; she was completely trapped. The submarine was gone, and she had no idea what the entity had done with her coworkers. She had no way of communicating with the rest of the crew on the rig, there was no food she could attempt to survive on, and even she knew the oxygen was in finite supply. Even if she could attempt to swim to safety, the pressure outside the cave walls would kill her. That didn’t even count the bloodthirsty entity she was trapped in the cave with. The defeat she felt made her want to gag with hopelessness; she knew she would not escape this alive. Thick, heavy tears poured down her face, unheeded and unchecked.

“Ah, so you finally understand your future. Tell me, do you feel utter despair,” the voice sneered, “Do you feel the last few minutes of your life slipping away,” the creature watched tears trail down the young woman’s face with contempt and disgust, “Stupid humans! Always so fucking thick!”

“What do I have to do to survive,” Trina asked, her voice quiet with resignation as she sent a prayer to her mother; she hoped her mother would understand and survive whatever calamity the creature had in mind.

The creature grinned maliciously at the young woman; humans were so easy to control. So susceptible to the fear of death, they would do anything to prevent it; didn’t they realize there were worse things than death. The creature slithered next to the young woman’s ear again, whispering, “Become my vessel and survive.”

Trina knew she had little choice but to do as the heinous creature asked of her. Her voice was quiet in the cave, barely heard over the crackle and snap of the fire, “Yes,” her head nodding in acquiesce.

With permission granted, Carman entered the young woman’s body. Finding the muted golden glow of Trina’s soul, she made quick work of Trina’s lifeforce; shredding it into stardust. From inside the woman’s body, Carman devoured the remnants of Trina's soul; she enjoyed the flavor of fear that had tainted the young woman right before her destruction. The depraved witch breathed in her first sigh in thousands of years. Finally, she would be free and destroy every last being on this godforsaken earth; never again would she be imprisoned away.

Running her hands across the vessel’s face, the eyes shifted and changed; the sclera turned black and the iris became blood-red. Her teeth turned into sharp points, like someone had taken a file to each one. Her hands continued to travel over the hair, changing from blonde to stark white, tipped pitch black and deep, dark red; a crown made of silver, onyx, and rubies rose above her head with spires resembling daggers. As her hands traveled down her bust to her hips, the clothing slowly changed from jeans and a t-shirt, into black armor with a sword stationed at her hips made of fine Elysium.

Hearing the splashing of water behind her, Carman turned to watch the three men from the submarine approach. She could see the souls of the men, just like the soul of the young woman, had been eaten by her sons had taken hold of their vessels. “Oh, my dear sweet boys,” Carman called out in a sickly saccharine voice, “Come, let me look at each of you.”

Dub stepped forward, pulling the baseball cap off his head. Looking at it with disgust, he tossed it to the dirt floor of the cave, “We are ready, Mother,” His black eyes stared at her, like a deep well of death, “We have waited so long for this moment.”  
  
His voice raspy from the vessel, Dother grunted, “Yes Mother, let us return to the surface,” Red eyes glowed in the pitch of the cave, “It is time for the people of earth to taste evil once more.”

Turning to her last son, Carman asked in that same vile, honeyed voice, “Dian, you have been quiet,” her grin flashing her pointed teeth, “Are you ready, my dear son?”

His eyes, like the color of ash from a long dead fire, glinted with maliciousness and loathing, caused Carman to flash an evil smirk at her son. His voice quiet, but fiendish delight within dripped from it like toxic waste, “Oh Mother dear,” a grin of sharp, black teeth flashed at her, “I was ready to blanket this world in violence a very long time ago.”

With acknowledgment from Dian, Carman waved her hand and transported them from the cave that had been their crypt since giants had walked the earth. The group came to rest on the banks of a long ago vacated island north of Scotland, Carman breathed in the fresh sea air; so far removed from the dank, mildew cave they had lived in for centuries. There definitely were a lot of worse things than death; trapped in that cave through the ages was far worse, she thought, snidely. Soon, she would be able to blanket the earth, once more, in blight, darkness, evil, and violence. Finally, she would force Danu, Dagda, and their people to their knees for a final time. She just had one more stop to make, a sinister smile spread over her pale face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long day. I have been going through some personal bullshit and haven't been sleeping well because of it. However, I'm back at it and more chapters should be coming soon. I will hopefully have a new one posted within the next day or two. Thanks for everyone's patience! :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrives in Avalon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! I'm sorry for the long delay in getting new chapters out. I've been going through a lot and have had a hard time focusing on my writing and editing. I'm going to be posting a couple of chapters tonight to make up for it and I still have plenty of chapters to enter into my computer. Yeah, I'm kinda old school and use paper and pencil. I'm trying to get back into the swing of it, so please be patient. Enjoy the chapters! :)

**Island of Avalon**

The vessel slid in quietly next to the weather-worn dock, waves splashed gently along the sides of the boat as it came to a stop. The mists enshrouding the lake hindered the sun, chilling the group traveling across the open expanse of water. Upon reaching the island, though, the mists lifted and the air warmed considerably around the group. The stillness of the lake disappeared with the charming songs of bright, little birds as they flittered throughout the trees.

“Welcome to Avalon,” a voice chirped from the dock, pulling the group’s attention to a young girl with a long, white blonde braid and dressed in a muted dress. The sides of her head were shaved down to her scalp and ancient Celtic markings were tattooed along her skull; the blue ink was a stark contrast on the girl’s pale skin.

“Avalon,” Rhiannon breathed out as if reciting a prayer, “Are you serious,” she asked, standing up so quickly, she almost toppled out of the boat. Steve’s hand shot out to steady her before she could end up in the cold water of the lake.

The young girl giggled at Rhiannon’s behavior, “Morgana was right, you do act strangely,” her hand raising over her mouth to hide her giggles. Rhiannon blushed at the child’s remark, realizing she was acting a bit like a nerd.

After ensuring Rhiannon wasn’t going to fall head first into the cold water, Steve grabbed the rope and tied the vessel to the dock. Stepping out, he gave Rhiannon his hand, watching as she tried to hide the blush on her beautiful face. He could tell she was embarrassed at almost falling out of the vessel, but he only found it endearing. Even in their strange circumstances of being thrown together, in the strangest of ways, she still found some sort of joy in all this.

As Rhiannon stepped out of the boat and onto the dock, Steve pulled her close to him, his mouth breathing gently against her ear, sending shivers down her neck, “It’s okay," Steve whispered, “I like unusual girls.”

Rhiannon’s blush only bloomed brighter at his words. Her wide, green eyes glanced around before landing on Bucky, a grin on his face and desire filled his cobalt eyes. The flint in her chest threw out sparks, lighting the flame to the dry kindling she held in her chest; her body breaking out in as sweat from the heat and desire she thought was long dormant. Careful, girl, a voice whispered inside her, this won’t last forever. She knew the voice was right; she wasn’t part of their world, and they weren’t going to be a part of hers. They were together because of a common purpose, that was all. Just like that, Rhiannon felt her stomach turn to knots, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from spilling down her face.

A loud cough from the boat broke the tension between the three scions, startling Rhiannon out of Steve’s gentle grasp. Looking over, she saw Merlin staring at them, disapproval etched on his face. Rhiannon turned to look at the young girl behind her, waiting patiently for their group to disembark the vessel; she simply stood there, smiling.

“My name is Gwynith,” the young girl introduced herself, before continuing, “Priestess Morgana has requested I help you all during the next few days while staying in Avalon,” Gwynith turned Rhiannon, “Miss Stewart, Morgana will meet with you once you’re settled.”

Rhiannon nodded to the young girl, walking towards her. Turning back to the other passengers, Steve and Bucky assisted the rest of the group off the small boat. Once everyone was standing on the dock, Gwynith led the group up to a path, leading further into the island. Beyond the shores of the lake, to a row of small cottages dotting the hillside of Avalon.

-

Having show Danu, Dagda, and Merlin to their cottages, the young girl led the last three to their cabin. A bit ahead of the trio on the path, Gwynith called back to them, a cheerful jingling in her voice, “We don’t have a lot of cottages on the island, since we don’t get very many visitors. The three of you will need to share the last cottage.”

Rhiannon swallowed at the young girl’s announcement, “Um, couldn’t we simply change the sleeping arrangements,” anxiety welling up in her chest, leaving her with a heavy pit in her stomach.

Gwynith looked back at the young woman and simply shook her head, continuing, “Priestess Morgana has determined the arrangements and decided the scions are to stay together, until she decides otherwise.”

Rhiannon simply nodded at the child, who seemed to have aged in the fraction of a second; ancient, yet still holding onto her childish features, as if she were time itself. Rhiannon didn’t dare look to Steve or Bucky, knowing her face had suddenly gone blood-red and a glance at them would probably cause her to trip over her own two feet. She wouldn’t have to worry about alluring super-soldiers or sleeping arrangements. Gwynith continued on the path once more, heading in the direction of the last cottage.

There was a part of Rhiannon that wanted to run back to the boat and get the hell away from the mythical island. Rather than follow the instinct, she trailed behind the girl as the two men fell in step behind Rhiannon. Steve and Bucky had been just as surprised by the declaration issued by Morgana; they could understand why Rhiannon reacted the way she had. Staying in a cottage with two men she barely knew after having been thrown into whatever mess they were in, would not be the ideal for many people.

Walking down the path with the others, Steve was lost in his thoughts, remembering the discussion he had with Arthur and the star-crossed path the other three had found themselves on. Morgana was certainly doing everything in her power to ensure Merlin wouldn’t have a chance to meddle with the scions, he thought. After seeing the torture and pain Arthur still dealt with over a thousand years later, he was relieved the priestess had intervened. He had no desire to share the same fate as the other trio.

“Here we are,” Gwynith said, as she stopped in front of a small cottage, standing a several yards away at her side, “Inside you will find water, food, clothing, and bedding. If you need anything else, let me know,” the young girl chimed happily, before running back down the path they had just come from.

Steve sighed, looking at the other two, “Well, I guess, lets get settled,” walking to the door of the cottage.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky talk. Bucky makes Rhiannon blush.

Steve and Bucky stood outside the cottage, splitting a few logs to heat the building later tonight. Inside, Rhiannon was changing into warmer clothing; she had been shivering when they had gotten inside the cottage. Having wasted little time in getting them out of the cottage, she set about changing in the relative privacy it offered. They had been happy to give her space to swap outfits; they couldn’t imagine how cold she must have been only clothed in a thin dress. Seeing the wood next to the cottage, they figured they had better split some; once the sun had gone down, they had a feeling it would be a chilly night.

The ax hit the wood, cracking and peeling apart it with each swing; the sound sent echoes throughout the small island. Around the two men, the air was filled with the sweet, tart scent of apples; it was everywhere, the earth, the wood, the stone. Every part of the island seemed intertwined with apples. Slamming the ax into the tree stump he had been using to split the wood, Bucky turned to Steve, “So, what do you make of all of this?”

Slamming the ax into his own tree stump, Steve turned to look at Bucky, “When I grabbed Excalibur, I saw something,” Steve paused, correcting himself as he put his hands on his slim hips, “Well, not a something, someone.”

Bucky leaned back against the outside of the cottage, crossing his arms over his muscular chest, “What do you mean, someone?”

Steve sighed, “When I grabbed the sword, I met Arthur,” his gaze catching Bucky’s eye, “As in, King Arthur.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve’s comment, but waited for Steve to continue, “He talked about what Lancelot, Morgana, and he had been through. They loved each other and were ripped apart by Merlin and a woman named Vivian,” Steve looked at his long time friend, “Merlin and Vivian wanted power and the other three simply wanted the freedom to love each other.”

“We both know how destructive, encompassing, and seductive power can be,” Bucky commented. Both men were assaulted by memories of Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D., and Thanos; all the hell those entities had put the world through for the sake of power and control.

“Several times over,” Steve grimaced at the thoughts running rampant in his mind, “So, not only do we have to battle some godforsaken sorceress and her fucked-up sons, but watch our backs, as well.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time we were surrounded by the enemy,” Bucky replied, humorlessly as his hand reached up to rub his forehead, “How the hell did we get roped into this shit,” Bucky shot a pointed look to Steve, “Trouble is attracted to you like bees to honey, always has been,” a smirk spreading across the dark-haired man’s face.

Steve chuckled, “You are one to talk, punk.”

“Jerk,” Bucky shot back, laughing at his friend.

Steve sighed, frowning, “What a clusterfuck.”

Bucky sobered, “Hey,” catching Steve’s eye, “I’m with you to the end of the line.”

Steve walked over to Bucky, grasping his hand; Bucky squeezed his hand in return, “Merlin was forced to bring you in, he didn’t want to. Morgana threatened our lives, so he had to do it.”

Bucky quickly realized how determined, even after all these centuries, Merlin was to obtain whatever power and control he could, “We will have to ensure Merlin remains an advisor and limit his influence,” Bucky stated, his blue eyes turning into a frozen lake as he looked to Steve.

“Agreed,” Steve replied, “the less influence Merlin has, the better.”

Thinking about Bucky’s upcoming meeting, Steve changed the subject, “Do you know anything about this Green Man or Caliburn,” Steve asked, his blue gaze focused on Bucky,

“No,” Bucky replied with a shrug as he stuffed his hands into his vest pockets, “I’m assuming it has something to do with King Arthur or some sort of Pagan ritual,” his eyes watching as Steve nodded in agreement.

“I think, though, the choice is yours to make,” Steve assured Bucky, not sure if his best friend was willing to take this new war on.

“Like I said, to the end of the line,” Bucky assured Steve, a barely perceptible smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Looking at Bucky, he could feel the pride and love swell inside him. Walking over to where he leaned against the cottage, Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky. He breathed Bucky's scent; the mixture of machine oil and sweat with the aroma of fresh-cut wood was incredibly tempting. Staring into his friend’s cobalt eyes, Steve whispered, “Thanks, Buck,” before shuttering his eyes.

They stayed like that for a few minutes; it had been a long time since they had been able to have some sort of peace to just be with each other. Both had spent so much time running between missions and battles, peaceful moments together were cherished. They both knew this was the calm before the storm; the deep breath in before it was exhaled into the smoke, dirt, and the blood of war.

A cough issued behind Steve, separating the two men, albeit slowly. Steve turned toward the sound, expecting it to be Rhiannon or one of the others. Instead, a diminutive woman with long, jet black hair and piercing gray eyes stood before them. Her pale skin was adorned with various tattoos and markings etched onto her body. She was dressed in a long, flowing white dress, and her arms were decorated with beautifully ornate armbands, carved with Celtic designs.

Her perceptive gray eyes were filled with understanding as she looked at the two super-soldiers, “Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes,” a warm smile filled the woman’s face, “It is wonderful to meet you both. You remind me so much of Arthur, Steve." Both men nodded at the older woman in greeting, as she continued, “I am Morgana Le Fay. I am here for Rhiannon. She and I have a great deal to discuss,” turning to Bucky, she asked, “Would you please let her know I’m here, Bucky?”

Bucky nodded to the woman before turning and heading towards the front of the cottage. Morgana turned toward Steve, her perceptive eyes seeing straight to his heart, but instead of zeroing in on a young woman with green eyes or a man from another time, she turned hard left, “You spoke with Arthur,” she asked, though they both knew full well that he did.

Steve nodded, “Yes, we spoke when I grabbed Excalibur.”

Morgana smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “I can feel his presence inside you; he is a part of your soul now. He will strengthen your will for all the battles to come,” her eyes grew dark, filled with caution, “Heed my warnings well, Steve, otherwise, everything and everyone you hold dear will be lost,” her voice was haunting and eerie in the bright sunlight, her eyes pleaded with his, “Just as he once did.”

Steve’s face was solemn, “I understand, Morgana. I refuse to lose anyone again.”

Inside the small cottage, Rhiannon slipped on a deep maroon dress, having washed the woad off her skin. She could feel the dress catching on bits she had missed, though, but she would deal with that when she could take a shower; fuck, what she wouldn’t give for a shower right now. The once pale washcloth lay next to a cream-colored porcelain basin, now filled with water the color of sparkling sapphires. Turning, she checked her reflection in the mirror behind her and sighed, staring at the unruly mass of hair on her head. Quickly, she drove her fingers through the snarls, trying to get her hair to a more manageable level, allowing it to spill down her back.

When she had first walked into the cottage, she wasn’t surprised by the small size; the homey furnishings were beautiful but seemed mammoth in the cottage. There was a small table with a couple of chairs around it; they were placed in front of the fireplace. On the hearth, there was a pot to boil water and shelves filled with foodstuffs. On the other side of the cottage, there was one bed; one large bed. She had held out hope there would have been more than one bed. Instead, it appeared she would be sharing her bed with the two men, which only caused her heart to go into arrhythmia.

A knock sounded on the door, pulling Rhiannon from her thoughts. Turning around, she strode toward the door, grabbing a dark cloak made of soft lambswool from a hook next to it. Opening it, she saw Bucky standing on the other side, his blue gaze staring back at her own vivid green. A blush of bright pink filled out the apples of her cheeks. His eyes, normally blank and cold, were now filled with warmth as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey Doll,” Bucky drawled out, watching as her blush bloomed from pink to bright red, his eyes filled with merriment, “You look gorgeous,” his gaze focusing on her full lips, watching her tongue dart out to wet them.

Rhiannon could only gape at the dark-haired soldier, feeling her face grow sunburned as she watched his smirk widen and his eyes brighten with laughter. She felt her heartbeat quicken, fluttering fast in her chest like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. She swallowed past the stone suddenly lodged in her throat as her knees started to feel like quicksand. He was definitely devastating to her psyche when he turned on the charm.

“Um, hi Bucky,” Rhiannon breathed, almost ecstatic that her knees were keeping her standing and hadn’t decided to abandon her. It should be illegal for Bucky to say that to her, she thought, trying not to rub her thighs together with how wet she had suddenly become.

Bucky couldn’t help but revel in the dazed and heated look in her bright, green eyes. He desperately wanted to twist her hair around his hand and fuse his mouth to hers, so he could drink from it. Instead of giving in to his desire, he forced himself to do as the older woman had requested, “Morgana is here to speak with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Please read and review/kudos :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please review or leave kudos! It's all appreciated :)


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